


When Love Comes Undone

by StarlitSky



Series: After The Championship [8]
Category: Mutant League (Cartoon)
Genre: AO3 exclusive, Deception, Drama, F/M, Heartbreak, Prequel, Romance, Tragedy, Twins, Unexpected Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-30 00:25:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlitSky/pseuds/StarlitSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years before the quake that brings mutants--and the Mutant League--into existence, an unassuming college graduate happens to meet a rising star in the world of sports, a man who will one day be known as the greatest athlete the world has ever seen. This is the untold story of how these two innocent people came together...only to be torn apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a prequel for the trilogy (Fractured, Pieces, One Whole) so spoilers abound. Though reading all four stories offers a fuller experience, it's possible for this to be taken on its own. Relax&Enjoy.

_Lying here in this empty room_  
_You were here and gone too soon_  
_Shadows moving down the wall_  
_Like you were never here at all_  
~Invincible;  Issa

So, Emmaline thought. This is it.

The big moment. That first big step. As of now, she was permanently leaving her childhood days behind. She had officially entered the realm of adulthood, and all the choices, endless possibilities and chances to succeed--or screw up--out in the real world loomed at her feet.

She stood out on the lawn of the college she'd spent the last four years living at, the old brick building standing nearby like a sentry, giving off the feeling that it had been there for many years and would still be there in years to come--and it had, and probably would. Surrounding her were her fellow students, all still garbed, like she was, in their graduation gowns. The noise-level was as high as the emotion as hands were shaken, pictures were snapped and relatives were hugged.

For Emmaline, the day was a little more quiet, a little more reserved. She had her friends, who had already given their congratulations before running off, but she didn't have much family with her here today. Her father passed away when she was young, and her mother, middle-aged but ambitious, had moved abroad with her older sister when Emmaline moved out of the house and started college. They, along with a handful of close friends and distant cousins, now resided in Paris, France, and were busy enjoying running an interior design business.

After stepping down from the stage set temporarily out on the lawn, diploma in hand, her mother had promptly run up and squeezed her tight. She then hopped onto a chair and started snapping pictures, a sight Emmaline couldn't help laughing at. Her mother, especially compared to her own height of five-foot-eight, was quite petite.

She had already left a few minutes ago, going on ahead to make sure everything was in order at the restaurant she had reserved for lunch. Emmaline was left alone, and she took a moment to gaze around her, taking in the sight of the campus she would soon be vacating and again letting that feeling of newness and possibility sink in--and then she felt a pair of arms snake around her from behind and yank her into a tight hug.

"Hey, Min," a cheerful voice said in her ear, "you look a little dazed, there."

"Aren't you?" Emmaline wondered--though she knew better than anyone that the answer was no.

Cecilia Wintercrest was one of those seemingly unshakable kinds of people who could brush off virtually anything with an airy laugh and a toss of her pale blond hair. She laughed now as she let go and came to stand beside her best friend, running her fingers through her shoulder-length hair. "You kidding? I'm lucky to be getting out of here before all the bathrooms on campus are named after me."

Emmaline grunted and rubbed a hand across her forehead at the kind of images this conjured up. "Cecilia, that's disgusting," she said wearily.

Cecilia just grinned at her, unconcerned. "Hey, if you're not going to have sex in college, when are you?" she wanted to know.

She paused for a beat. "Seriously, when are you? You plan on staying a virgin forever or something?"

"I'll be ready when I'm ready," Emmaline said simply, calmly...though inside she was cringing with embarrassment. And to think Cecilia had been so sweet and innocent when they first met in kindergarten. As cherubic as a Cabbage Patch doll.

"When are you packing your stuff?" Cecilia asked as she wiggled out of her gown and draped it over her arm. Underneath, she had on snow-white stockings under a cream-colored skirt, with a matching jacket and heels. She looked like a snow queen...irony of ironies.

"Later, after lunch with my mom."

"Cool, let's meet up then."

Emmaline nodded, her heart speeding a little. She didn't actually have any real plans for where she was going to move yet, and she was pretty sure Cecilia didn't, either. She planned to stay with friends for now, until she had a steady paying job; then she would look into getting her own place. It was kind of funny to think about it now, considering how careful and organized she always was. But as graduation day had neared, things weren't as perfectly in place as she imagined they would be, and in the end she had decided not to plan it out that carefully. Let things fall into place as they would for a change.

Smirking, she imagined that a few people she knew would be more than a little amused if they knew about this, her little way of being bold and spontaneous.

"And would you look at this," Cecilia suddenly exclaimed, scooping up a little girl only a few years old, with honey-brown hair and bright blue eyes. The little girl squealed and kicked her feet as Cecilia spun her around. "It's the cutest baby sister in the whole wide world!"

Emmaline laughed as she watched, as did a couple standing across the drive. "You ready to go, honey?" asked Cecilia's mother.

"Almost. I'm just going to grab some stuff from my room really quick."

She set little Heather down and grabbed Emmaline's hand, and together they ran back across campus. As they mounted the front steps, Emmaline noticed a handful of male students lurking near the stairs, only they weren't wearing college colors she recognized. Then she remembered; some special football team was visiting, and their own college had played against them last week, though Emmaline didn't really understand all the particulars. She just knew it was a little unusual for them to be here now, especially considering that they were all supposed to be the extra-smart, over-achiever types who had gone to college early and graduated early. They were supposed to be gearing up to be the number one team in the state, and in a few years the country--and after that the world. That was what she heard their coach bragging, anyway. Their own team had been less than pleased.

As the two of them were heading down the corridor to their room, Cecilia suddenly leaned on Emmaline's arm with one of her big sighs. The kind that could only be described as lustful. "He's so hot," she declared, swooning.

"Who?" Emmaline wondered.

"That football player," Cecilia said.

She'd figured as much. "Which one?"

"The one with the nouveau-preppie haircut."

Emmaline gave her a funny look. "The what?"

"You know--clipped super short in the back and left kind of long in the front. Dorky, yet adorable."

"Oh. I didn't notice."

Cecilia snorted. "Typical."

Emmaline shrugged, unconcerned, and pushed open the door to their dorm. Inside, she took off her gown and changed into a dark brown sweater-dress and matching pumps, while Cecilia gathered things from inside and on top of her dresser and shoved them into her purse. Emmaline was pinning back her wavy hair when she paused, confused, as her best friend picked up some kind of boxy-looking leather bag with a cord hanging out of it. "What's that?"

"Graduation gift," Cecilia said proudly.

"Uh-huh. But...what is it?"

Cecilia looked at her confused expression and giggled. "It's a bag phone, silly. For my car."

"Oh."

Cecilia smirked as she tucked the bag under one arm and slung her purse over the other. "I always forget how un-tech savvy you are," she noted. "What was the last video game you picked up, anyway?"

"Um...Super Mario Bros. 3?"

Cecilia clucked her tongue. "Worse than I thought."

"It's only three years old."

"Hey, nothing ages quicker than electronics, Min."

Grinning, she gave her a quick hug before darting out the door. "I'll see you later, okay?" she called over her shoulder.

She ran off, and Emmaline went over to her desk, where she carefully tucked the books she just couldn't part with into her bag and zipped it up. It was true; things with wires and gears weren't her strong point. She didn't know much about physical things, like sports, either--she had actually gone to that football game last week, since Cecilia had all but dragged her with. Emmaline had taken the time to catch up on her notes, and she'd let herself get lost beneath the noisy din around her, retreating into the quiet of her mind as she calculated and scrawled out figures. That was the two things she knew best: words and numbers. Studying language fascinated her, and numbers comforted her, because they never changed.

She'd excelled in both English and calculus, and now she had an interview set up in a few days for an accounting job. Maybe it wasn't the most exciting career choice, but she didn't care. She was good at what she did, and if she kept on studying, she would only get better. There was decent money to be earned, too, if things went well.

She finished packing her bag and shouldered her purse and was about to leave when the phone on the edge of her desk rang. It was probably for Cecilia--it almost always was--but she put her bags down and answered it anyway...and almost wished she hadn't.

"Good, I'm glad I caught you before you left," a cheerful male voice on the other end said after she'd said hello. "I wanted to give my congratulations."

"Thank you," Emmaline said softly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there to see it," Steven Brooks went on, "but you know how these meetings go."

"I can imagine," said Emmaline. "Really, Steven, it's nice enough for you to call me from work. I don't expect you to come all the way across town just to see me graduate. The top execs of the firm would probably frown if you did."

Steven chuckled for a moment. "You got that right. That's what I like about you, Linny; you're so understanding. But I should be out of here in a couple of hours...will you be busy later?"

Emmaline had been a little afraid he might ask something like that. "I'm meeting my mother for lunch," she said. "After that Cecilia and I are coming back to pack. After that...we'll see."

"Good. I've got to run. See you soon, okay?"

Emmaline mumbled a goodbye and hung up. He sure didn't waste any time, she thought dryly.

She and Steven had met shortly after she graduated from high school, and he was nice enough, and she considered him a close friend these days, but...

Since the day they met he'd pushed for more, and even though she, for the most part, enjoyed his company, she'd skirted the issue so far. Partly because of the fact that he was older, and much more knowledgeable and experienced than she was, left her feeling a little intimidated, and partly because she was a little worried there would be talk that she was only seeing him to get her foot into some corporate office door. And partly because he was just so...pushy.

Oh, he was subtle enough about it, but the prodding and the hints were always there, that ever-persistent nudging that he wanted them to be a couple. She didn't appreciate being made to feel like she was being pressured, so once she entered college she'd used her studies as an excuse to dodge a serious relationship, claiming it would be too distracting. She liked him well enough, but the thought of them becoming a real couple...

She really wasn't sure why the thought made her so uneasy. Maybe it was because she knew that budding lawyers were dishonest by trade...or maybe it was the company he kept. Namely that oily best friend of his. The one with the greasy black hair that was going prematurely bald. He always made her skin crawl, the way he leered whenever he smiled at her.

Emmaline gave herself a shake. She'd worry about Steven and his creepy friends later. Today was a happy day, and her spirits perked back up as she grabbed her things again and hurried out of the dorm. Heels clacking, she descended the front steps, her eyes drifting over to the yard, where slender birch trees swayed in the gentle breeze. The sun was shining brightly, glinting off the metallic letters of the banner stretched above the stage. As she gazed at the bold, block letters that read _Class of 1993_ , Emmaline felt that world of possibilities looming before her again.

And then something bumped into her side, and then it was the pavement that was looming before her as she lost her balance and stumbled down the last step. Her book bag and purse hit the ground, the contents of both spilling free as her hands landed sharply on the concrete. Spikes of pain shot up her wrists, making her wince...but at least she managed to keep her knees off the ground. The last thing she needed to do was head to her college graduation lunch with torn, bloody pantyhose, like she was still in middle school or something.

Groaning quietly, she shifted back so her weight rested on her heels and started to reach for her scattered belongings--and then a pair of hands closed around her wrists, turning her hands so her scratched palms faced upward. "Are you hurt? God, I am _so_ sorry--I wasn't looking where I was going."

Before she knew it--before she had any idea what was happening--she was being pulled to her feet. Literally pulled--lifted, raised up and set to her feet like she didn't weigh an ounce. The suddenness of it made her head spin a little, and her feet threatened to wobble as her weight rested on them again. The hands on her wrists instantly darted out and gripped her arms as she swayed. Emmaline felt like her breath had been stolen clean away. She had never felt such a strong grip in her life.

They were strong as iron, yet the broad fingers didn't dig into her skin through the fabric of her sleeves. The fingers holding her only applied gentle pressure, though she could feel the strength pulsing in them, radiating through the arms extended in front of her, leading up to a broad set of shoulders. She was eye-level with a muscular chest, lightly visible through the thin fabric of the shirt the person clutching her was wearing.

He was also wearing one of those jackets--the ones from that other college. One of the broad hands shifted from her arm to the small of her back, like he was worried she was still in danger of toppling over, while his other hand started brushing off her dress. "Are you all right?"

His voice matched his hands: strong, yet there was a softness, a gentleness to it. Emmaline lifted her eyes, searching for the face of her mysterious rescuer--and felt her breath spirit away from her again.

She had never seen such a striking face before. Granted, the features weren't anything overly special or unique on their own. A normal mouth that wasn't full or thin, a straight, slender nose, wisps of long black hair that brushed his shoulders and framed nice cheekbones. But there was an openness to his face that she had never seen before--a sense of freeness that told her that this person had nothing to hide and nothing to fear.

This openness was mirrored in his eyes. Those eyes...they were the brightest, most vibrant green she had ever seen. She had no idea who this person was, but she felt like his inner self, his very nature was shining through those eyes. She felt a sense of honesty, of sincerity, and an endless zest for life and to experience everything it had to offer. It was like all of his drive and desire permeated the air around him, penetrating everything it touched--including her. Shivering, she looked away.

"Are you all right?" he asked again.

Emmaline swallowed and found her voice, though it came out a little uneven as she spoke. "Yes," she said, laughing awkwardly. "I'm just as much at fault. My head was in the clouds."

Her gaze shifted down to her feet--which were steady enough now for the stranger to let go of her--and to the mess still scattered on the ground. Flushing and feeling glad there was no one around right now, Emmaline knelt--carefully so not to put a run in her nylons--and started gathering up the contents of her purse. To her surprise, the green-eyed stranger dropped to his knees and started helping her.

"You don't have to..." She started to say, just as she put her hand on a tube of lipstick. The stranger's hand brushed hers as he grabbed her nearby calculator; Emmaline almost shivered again. His hands were very warm, and a little bit coarse, but...she could feel the same strength she'd felt before in them. She didn't think she'd ever met someone who radiated such raw power. He was tall, too. At her height she met few people, male or female, who dwarfed her, but this one stood at six-foot-two easy.

Yet the fingers that touched hers as he passed her calculator to her were gentle, as was the smile he flashed her. "You sound pretty articulate," he noted. "English major?"

Emmaline glanced at those eyes again before quickly looking away. "Mathematics, actually," she said, with a faint smile of her own. "I'm no slouch in English or foreign languages, though."

"Thought so."

He dusted off her well-worn book on Celtic lore, slid it into her bag, then zipped it back up and handed it to her. "It's old," Emmaline commented, tone apologetic. "The zipper always works its way open."

Her purse, on the other hand, was new, but only closed with a single snap. Lesson learned.

"Is that everything?" the muscular football player asked.

Emmaline gave a nod and slid the strap of her book bag over her arm before slinging her purse back over her shoulder. "Uh-huh," she said softly. The heel of her shoe scraped quietly on the sidewalk as she shifted her weight, getting ready to stand. Those strong hands were around her wrists again in an instant, pulling her up with the same effortlessness as before.

Only this time, instead of letting go, they shifted to the backs of her hands, cupping them as they turned her palms upward. Tan thumbs brushed over her skin, the touch feather-soft. Emmaline felt a faint burning sensation coming from the scraped heels of her palms, but she barely noticed. Her attention was on the heat radiating from those hands, and on those green eyes as they locked with hers.

She felt that same odd feeling as before--like this man's very will was rippling into her--and it shivered through her clear down to her toes, making her heart quicken strangely. She wouldn't go so far as to say that it was like she already knew this person--that was too corny--but...she wanted to. She wanted to know everything about him, every last little thing that made him who he was. She didn't think she'd ever felt that way about anyone she had ever met in her entire life.

It felt awkward, staring quietly up at him like that, but he didn't seem to mind. His thumbs continued to brush her palms as his vibrant eyes studied her face, like he was trying to memorize it. Or like he couldn't look at it enough. "What's your name?" he asked, voice soft and low.

"Emmaline," she replied, just as softly. It almost made her laugh; it was like they were both afraid of scaring the other away.

She didn't laugh, but she smiled. He grinned in return, and her heart sped up again; he had a beautiful smile. It lit up his entire face. "Butch Justice," he told her. "Visiting football captain."

Emmaline smiled again. "I know. I mean, I had figured as much."

She flushed, not used to feeling this shy. But she couldn't bring herself to look away from those eyes. "Did you watch the game?" Butch asked her.

"Umm, sort of. I really don't know a thing about football, or any other kind of sport," she admitted, with an embarrassed laugh.

Butch just smiled at her, clearly not offended. "That's all right. No one does everything."

Emmaline felt something warm deep inside her heart. He was so sweet. She'd only just met him, but something about him made her feel comfortable with him--even as her heart continued to thump nervously. It was a strange, juxtaposed kind of feeling she couldn't quite explain.

He suddenly looked down at her hands, and Emmaline almost felt startled by the break in contact. She'd gotten used to looking at his eyes. "You sure you don't need these disinfected or something?" he asked, referring to her palms.

Emmaline looked down at the red scrapes and quickly shook her head. "No, I--"

She had to be somewhere. She almost forgot completely. "They'll be fine. I...was just leaving for lunch."

"Oh."

The disappointment was plain in his voice, and it was mirrored in his eyes as they locked with hers again. Crazily, a part of her told her to cancel and stay right here...but she slowly withdrew her hands and tucked them at her sides. The ghostly imprint of his warm fingers lingered on her skin.

"Well...stay safe out there, Emmaline."

"Drogues," she added, though she wasn't sure why. "Emmaline Drogues."

The green eyes drifted over her face again. Butch smiled faintly as he reached up and touched a hand to her hair. It took her a second to realize that he was nudging a hairpin that had shifted loose when she fell back into place. "Maybe I'll see you around, Emmaline Drogues."

Emmaline hoped so, too. She gave a shy nod and averted her eyes--and nearly gave a start when she spied her watch. Only a few minutes had passed since she left her dorm. It felt like a lot longer.

She took a moment to straighten her purse and adjust her hold on her bag, and when she looked up again...Butch was gone.

* * *

"Is something on your mind, sweetie?"

Startled, Emmaline looked up from her plate. Her mother was watching her expectantly from across the table, looking polished and pretty in her green dress that went well with her burgundy hair. The restaurant they were sitting in was quiet and classy, with glossy floors, textured walls and fragrant potted plants.

It was a nice place, and the food was good...but she'd done little over the last twenty minutes or so other than nudge her fork around her plate. "Kind of," she admitted quietly.

"I figured as much," her mother noted tartly. "You've hardly eaten a thing, and I made sure to order all your favorites."

Smiling faintly, Emmaline looked down at her plate again, which was piled with mounds of mashed potatoes and gravy, a handful of biscuits, steamed vegetables...and fried chicken. Ever since she started studying foreign cultures, years ago, she had acquired a taste for French food, but it was nice to revert back to her childhood staples for a change. She was making a point of getting familiar with all the top restaurants, bistros and diners around town, though. If she ever found herself in a business where she needed to take a client out to dinner, she knew no one was going to be impressed if she took them to a fast food place.

"Just thinking about the future," Emmaline said lightly. "Graduating, getting my first real job, finding my own place..."

It was fairly close to the truth. She _had_ been thinking about those things a lot lately...though ever since she left campus for lunch, her mind had emptied of everything except images of a muscular athlete with gorgeous black hair and amazing green eyes.

"I know it all seems pretty intimidating right now," her mother noted, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "But you'll do fine. I know you will."

Emmaline smiled again. "Thanks, Mom."

She focused on her lunch after that, and when it was over she hugged her mother goodbye, since she was flying back to Paris in the morning, then hurried out to her car and drove back to campus. She saw Cecilia's car parked outside, so she pulled up next to it and hopped out. As she was heading up the front walk, she paused in surprise; someone was standing under one of the birch trees, leaning casually back against the slender white trunk. Watching her.

Behind him, the sun was just starting to set, the sky turning red and orange just at the horizon. The waning light illuminated him from behind, leaving his face in shadow, an effect that made him seem all the more mysterious--and alluring. He didn't make a move to come closer, and Emmaline had a feeling that if she turned and hurried on inside, he wouldn't try to follow her. But that wasn't what she wanted. Surprised by her own boldness, she found herself heading across the lawn, each step bringing her closer to the very figure that had occupied her thoughts all afternoon.

When she reached him, her eyes all but drunk in the sight of his face, softly kissed by the growing shadows. Again surprised by her own boldness, she said, "I was hoping I would see you again."

The smile Butch gave her was warm--and hinted at relief and eagerness. "I was hoping that too," he said, reaching up to brush his hand over the hair framing her face. "That was why I decided to hang around; I want to see you again. And again. And again, if I can."

Emmaline's heart was racing, and her cheeks felt warm. Things like this just didn't happen to her. "Tomorrow," she said, almost breathless. "Let's meet tomorrow."

She was shocked with herself, and she knew she wouldn't be the only one surprised by her actions, once word got around. She didn't do things like this--dive into something with both feet. But who cared, she thought absently, as she let herself get lost in those eyes of his. Sometimes it did a person good to act out of character.

Still smiling, Butch reached down and cupped her hand in his. She felt a smooth, cool touch to her palm as a folded slip of paper was pressed into her hand. "Call me when you can. Okay?"

Emmaline nodded quickly. "I will."

Was he leaving? She sure hoped not. And then she heard someone call her name; she nearly jumped out of her skin as she pulled her hand away and spun around.

Cecilia was standing at the top of the stairs, watching her as she leaned on the metal railing. Her expression was solemn, but her eyes danced. "You coming to pack or what?" she wanted to know.

Emmaline flushed and looked at Butch again. "I..."

"She's coming," Butch called to Cecilia evenly. "I'm here to help."

Cecilia raised her slender eyebrows. "You bringing a man into the dorm, Min?" She clucked her tongue. "About friggin' time."


	2. Chapter 2

Emmaline truly meant to call Butch as soon as she possibly could, but in the end he beat her to it. The next morning she woke up to the sound of ringing; it took her several moments to realize that it was the phone, and she stopped slapping her alarm clock and fumbled for the receiver. "Hello?"

"Morning, Miss Drogues," came Butch's cheery voice on the other end. "How was your first night as a college grad?"

Emmaline covered a yawn as she answered. "Less than exciting," she reported. "I spent all evening moving into my friend Beth's basement, then took all the furniture from my dorm that won't fit and either donated it or put it in storage. Then I fell asleep on a cot here in the corner."

Butch snickered. "Whoa, slow down there, killer," he teased.

Giggling, Emmaline settled down on her pillow, pulling the covers up to her chin. She didn't care if it was corny; hearing his voice made her feel warm inside, and strangely safe. Like she could lie here and talk to him forever. "I didn't wake anyone up, did I?"

"Just me, Mister Justice," she said wryly. "Beth has a job as an assistant clerk at her mother's boutique, so they're already gone for the day. Me, I have a few interviews lined up at several real estate and insurance offices around town. Once I have a full-time job, I'll be getting my own place."

"Sounds like you've got it all worked out," commented Butch, sounding impressed.

Emmaline beamed quietly, pleased that an up-and-coming athlete didn't think desk jobs were too boring to discuss. "More or less."

"Do you have anything scheduled for today?" he asked.

Emmaline bit her lip. His tone was casual, but...there was an underlying eagerness there as well. "There are a few more places I was planning to fill out applications for," she told him. "Just in case the interviews don't work out."

"Hey, always good to have backup plans," said Butch, with approval. "If it turns out I tank in the big league, I'm thinking about falling back as a circus clown or something."

The thought of such a big, muscular young man dancing around with balloons and clown shoes made her burst out laughing. "See? You're laughing already," Butch said, the grin plain in his voice. "But seriously," he went on, "there's no better feeling in the world than making someone laugh when they're sad--especially little kids."

Emmaline felt her own grin fade. "What?"

"Seriously, I love kids. I want a bunch someday."

For a moment, Emmaline stared blankly at the chipped white ceiling. In her chest, her heart was thumping firmly against her rib cage, in an odd, uneven kind of way. You're about to enter the world of professional sports, and this is where your mind is? Good god, Butch Justice, I think you just made me fall in love with you--and over the phone, no less.

"What about later?"

Emmaline gave herself a shake and sat up. "Um, later today?" she faltered.

"Yeah. There's a carnival in town...will you be free this evening? Around five, maybe?"

A carnival. When was the last time she had done something just for her, and just for fun? "Absolutely," she said, grin returning.

"Great! I'll come pick you up."

"Great," echoed Emmaline, as she fairly leaped off the cot. "See you then."

They said goodbye and hung up, and Emmaline hurried to her suitcase full of clothes and started searching for--instead of something crisp and polished and office-ready--something date night appropriate.

* * *

As soon as Emmaline stepped out of Butch's car--a sleek, gorgeous red convertible with white detailing and glistening chrome--a quiet breeze kicked up, teasing the skirt of her white cotton sundress. Carried along on the gentle wind were the smells of cotton candy and popcorn, and the air was full of music and laughter and the jangle of rides and midway games. The air hummed with lively energy, almost like an electric charge, and it held a promise of excitement and fun.

Laughing, Emmaline pushed her billowing hair away from her face and turned around. Butch was rounding the car, dressed in jeans, leather boots, and a gray-and-black windbreaker instead of his school jacket. The wind played with the ends of his hair as he took her hand and--to her heart's flip-flopping surprise--kissed her fingers softly.

With his eyes glued to hers he said, quietly, "You look beautiful. Did I tell you that yet?"

Emmaline flushed and nodded. "Uh-huh."

Twice, in fact. Once when he picked her up, and again during the drive over. She'd been paid compliments before, but something about the way he sounded when he spoke to her, and how his eyes filled with such earnest sincerity...

It sent a little thrill clear down to the tips of her toes.

His smile warm, Butch kept a firm grip on her hand as he led her across the parking lot. Gravel crunched beneath their feet, though it soon gave way to raw dirt. Emmaline glanced down at her feet and absently wished that she'd brought a different kind of footwear. She brushed the concern aside, though, because she highly doubted that a man who made a career of tackling other athletes to the ground, leaving his clothes torn and stained by grass, dirt, sweat, and mud was going to care a whole lot if her crisp white sandals grew a little grimy tonight.

In fact, as Butch paid the admission fee and they scampered into the carnival together, she couldn't remember the last time her heart had felt so light and carefree. 

Beyond the main gate were rows and rows of vendors, games and ticket booths, and throngs of people, young and old, were bustling up and down the dusty paths. Farther in were rides covered in blinking lights, and a multitude of honks, squeaks, and clangs rang out, while upbeat music pumped through speakers above their heads.

Butch's hand tightened around hers. "So...where should we begin?" he wondered.

Emmaline opened her mouth to answer--but just then she caught sight of someone hurrying toward them, hand lifted in greeting. "Hey, dweeb," he greeted cheerfully.

Snickering, Butch let go of her hand and hurried to meet him. "Hey, shrimp," he returned, as the two of them high-fived each other.

The 'shrimp' was wearing a bomber jacket colored flame red, and looked like he stood nearly an inch taller than Butch. Emmaline would have a hard time deciding which of the two had more muscle mass without help from a tape measure.

Standing beside the red-clad behemoth was a petite blonde who was practically eye-level with his stomach, yet she looked completely relaxed and comfortable as she leaned against his side, her blue eyes shining as she smiled up at him. He grinned and pulled her closer in return; clearly, a happy couple who were very much in love.

Casually slipping his arm around her waist, Butch said, "Emmaline, this is my best friend and our team's linebacker, and his fiancée Sarah. Guys, this is Emmaline."

"Em," the burly athlete greeted, nodding. "Just call me Malone."

Sarah flashed a friendly smile. "We were just about to get something to eat. You two want to join us?"

"I could eat," said Butch, glancing at Emmaline with a smile. "What do you say? You hungry?"

Emmaline bit her lip. "Actually, I ate a late lunch, so..."

She'd made sure to, in fact. She'd probably be hungry again later, but she hoped to be home by then. Granted, the salty, sugary, and cheesy smells coming from the nearby food vendors smelled kind of good, but...

Butch looked disappointed. "Oh. You sure? My treat."

As Emmaline shook her head, she noticed that Malone was eyeing her suspiciously. "Is she full, or just allergic to too much fat and sodium?" he wondered, addressing no one in particular.

Emmaline felt her ears start to burn. Malone 'tsked.' "Thought so. Better be careful, old buddy, looks like you've picked up a sophisticate. And I don't thing this place sells sushi."

"Hey," Butch all but growled, his arm tightening around her waist protectively. "Watch it."

Malone snickered a moment later, a grin breaking across his face. "Kidding. Nothing wrong with a woman of refinement. In fact, I just might snatch her up for myself when you're not looking."

With a roll of her eyes, his diminutive fiancée snagged the collar of his jacket and started dragging him away. "We'll be over by the hot dog stand," she called over her shoulder.

Butch snickered for a moment, then gave Emmaline's shoulder a squeeze. "Don't mind Malone. If he's teasing you, it means he likes you."

Emmaline was relieved to hear it. Being on good terms with a significant other's friends was always important, plus she didn't really care to be on the bad side of someone so...large.

With his arm still around her shoulders, Butch guided her around a group of chattering teenagers, then paused near a bright red popcorn cart. The smell of salt and butter made her nose twitch. Expression knowing, Butch said, "I think there's something around here that won't fill you up too much."

Having a feeling she knew what that something was, Emmaline let out a laugh as he let go and scurried off. A few minutes later he came back with a giant mound of pink, blue, and purple. "Your bouquet, m'lady," he said cheekily.

Emmaline laughed again as she accepted the cotton candy, which she nibbled daintily as they started walking again. A moment later Malone returned, with an extra-fat hot dog smothered in chili in one hand and a plate with two slices of pizza and a gooey-looking cheeseburger in the other. "Eat up, tiny," he said, passing the hot dog to Butch. "You need the calories."

Sarah let out a snort, a tiny serving of nacho chips and cheese in her hand. "If I had that many calories, I wouldn't need to eat for at least a week," she noted, nose wrinkled.

"Hey, we're growing boys," Butch retorted.

"Totally," Malone agreed. "These muscles are a constant work in progress."

He flexed impressively. Sarah pursed her lips, then moved over to Emmaline. "Trust me, this'll take a while. Want to play a game or something?"

Emmaline was open to the idea, and the two of them went through a series of games like skee-ball and darts, while the two 'growing boys' devoured their meals and headed back for more. Before long, Sarah had a bagful of small prizes, while Emmaline had none. Sarah was sweet enough to excuse her poor display of prowess as being caused by the half-eaten cone of cotton candy still in her hand, but Emmaline was pretty sure they both knew that had nothing to do with it.

"Finally done?" Sarah asked, as Butch and Malone rejoined them abruptly, her fiancé resting his hands on her slender shoulders and kissing the top of her head.

"Yup. Now it's time to get down to business."

"Completely," Butch agreed solemnly, though his green eyes danced.

While the two of them hurried over to a hoop game and snatched up a pair of basketballs, the word 'business' echoed in Emmaline's mind. It took her a moment to figure out why, but when it finally hit her it stopped her cold.

Business. Businessman. Steven.

She never met up with him yesterday--she'd completely forgotten about him. She never bothered to check her messages today either; no doubt he had called to ask how she had settled into her temporary residence and all. She had a feeling that if he found out she was out having a great time with another man, he'd be kind of upset, but...

They'd only had a casual lunch together once or twice--nothing serious. And she had never actually promised him that they would get together once she completed college...she merely said that they would see what happened. And _this_ , she thought, as she watched Butch shrug off his windbreaker, is what ended up happening.

His eyes focused on the hoop in front of him, Butch stretched his arms for a moment before grabbing another ball. Emmaline was amazed his t-shirt didn't tear.

She was kind of staring, but...she kind of didn't care. Absently chewing her bottom lip, she watched as he raised his arms above his head as he gauged another shot.

Beside her, someone chuckled; she tore her eyes away and saw that Sarah was watching her with a smirk. "You like him," she stated frankly.

Emmaline glanced down and absently rolled the last clump of cotton candy between her fingers...but she didn't bother to deny it. "I don't blame you," Sarah went on, her tone conversational. "Give him half a chance, and he'll treat you like royalty."

"Is he always like that?" Emmaline wondered.

Sarah scrunched up her face and appeared to think hard about it for a moment. "Mmm, hard to say. He hasn't had a whole lot of luck with women. Mostly he gets stuck with some loser who doesn't know what a good thing she's got going for her."

Emmaline found it hard to believe some members of her own gender could be so blind sometimes. If he were hers, she would never take him for granted, or do anything to hurt him. If he were hers, she would treasure him. If he were hers...

The idea gave her a thrill that set her heart racing. In that moment, she wanted more than anything to be able to say that Butch Justice was hers, that he belonged to her, and she to him. A tiny part of her brain tried to remind her that they only met yesterday, but she pushed the thought aside. Maybe it was a little irrational to feel so much for someone she had just met, but she had always been raised to understand that life could change in only a moment. And with the essence of his person--his very soul--shining from his eyes and face like it did...did she really need more than just a moment?

Sarah suddenly let out a giggle, startling her from her thoughts. She looked over and saw that the athletes had finished their game and were returning with a set of prizes. Malone had a whimsical stuffed unicorn; Sarah giggled again and squirmed as he teasingly poked her with its plastic horn. Grinning, Butch went up to Emmaline and held something out to her. "I guess this is for my, uh, little sophisticate."

Emmaline looked blankly at the stuffed toy for a moment. "Um, it looks like..."

Sushi. A mound of plush sushi lined up neatly in a Japanese bento box--an inflatable one, like a shiny purple beach ball, and it squeaked as she took it. On top, a pair of googly-eyes wiggled at her.

She tried not to laugh--too hard--but before she could stop herself, she was giggling so hard she was doubled-over. Butch laughed along with her, reaching out to steady her as she swayed on her feet, she was laughing so hard.

It took her a minute or two to start to compose herself, and she straightened up as she cleared her throat, though a giggle or two more escaped. Butch's own laughter faded, his hands tightening on her arms as his eyes rested on hers. Emmaline bit her lip; she hadn't realized until now how close they had drifted to each other. He was so close she could smell him--musky, a little sweaty, and completely and entirely masculine. She suddenly had the urge to throw her arms around his neck and inhale him until she could smell nothing else.

The thought made her cheeks warm. Butch suddenly dropped his gaze away from her eyes, resting it instead on her mouth. Absently, he wet his lips.

Emmaline's heart started thumping wildly; he wanted to kiss her. She could practically feel the desire from him as keenly as she felt her own. He wanted to kiss her almost as badly as she wanted to be kissed by him--so kiss me already, she thought firmly.

He didn't. There was a hint of doubt in his eyes, like he wasn't sure if she really wanted him to or not. And so, stuffed sushi squeaking in her hand as she wrapped her arms around his neck, Emmaline rose on her toes and clamped her mouth over his.

If Cecilia were here, she would have both laughed in shock and applauded her boldness. Emmaline could scarcely believe it herself; she was _never_ this forward with someone. But somehow, she knew in her heart that it was all right. She was safe with this person to be however she wanted to be. 

With a quiet moan that sent a shiver through her, Butch wrapped her in his arms and pulled her closer to him, until she was clutched firmly against his chest. Beneath his rib cage she could feel his heart beating just as fast as her own. Emmaline shivered again; she had never been held by arms so strong before. Muscle rippled against her bare skin as he slid a hand down to the small of her back, pressing her even closer to him.

His hand felt hot--to say nothing of his mouth. His lips seared across hers, drinking her in like he had never tasted anything so delicious. Moaning again, he touched the tip of his tongue to her lips. Ordinarily when she felt a guy do that, Emmaline pulled away in embarrassment. This time she found herself welcoming him gladly, even greeting him with her own tongue as she opened her mouth wider.

It was a sensation that sent stars dancing across her closed eyelids and heat pooling in her middle...and a little lower. Gasping, she pulled back just enough for their lips to break apart; she had never felt so excited before. And all from one brief kiss? The thought of what he could make her feel with a little more left her dizzy and breathless.

Butch panted right along with her, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glistening like dew. The muscles of his arms tightened, and for a second her heart somersaulted into her mouth as she thought that he was about to crush her to him and kiss her again--and she could tell that he wanted to, but he closed his eyes for a second, took a slow, calming breath, then eased his grip until his arms slipped away from her.

And then someone loudly cleared their throat. Emmaline hiccuped and started to redden in embarrassment; she had completely forgotten about Malone and Sarah.

She had completely forgotten about everything and everyone. For a brief moment, there had been no one else in the world except her and Butch. She had always thought it was corny when she read that in a romance novel, but...now she understood.

Squirming, she slowly turned around, but the couple didn't look annoyed, or amused. In fact, the best word she could use to describe the look the two gave each other was 'inspired.'

"Think we can top that?" Malone asked, as he rested his hands on Sarah's petite waist.

"Not out here," said Sarah, turning a pretty shade of pink.

"Fun house it is, then."

While the two hurried off, Butch turned to her with a smirk. "You game?"

Emmaline laughed. "Why not?"

Above, the sky was turning dark as the sun set, though the grounds were lit brightly by the lights of the games, rides, and spotlight-like fixtures that hovered over the paths. The inside of the fun house, however, was deliberately left dark and shadowy, making it hard for adventurers to find their way through the twisted, tangled corridors within. There were moving floors, creepy figures that popped out of the walls like a jack-in-the-box with ghoulish shrieks and giggles, and even a hall of mirrors.

A truly seasoned explorer could probably make their way through in a matter of minutes, but the four of them lingered inside for at least an hour. Every few feet they seemed to bump into Malone and Sarah, who kept sneaking off to dark corners for a quick round of--as Cecilia liked to call it--'tonsil boxing.' She and Butch never bothered to scold them...because they were doing the same thing.

It was refreshingly immature and delightfully naughty, and when they finally exited the fun house, Emmaline felt like she could sprout wings and fly. With a laugh, she jumped down the last few steps of the exit, not caring as dust puffed beneath her sandals. Night had long since fallen, but the party-like atmosphere of the carnival was still in full swing.

"Anyone up for some rides?" she asked.

"Not me," said Sarah with a sigh. "I get motion sickness."

"Oh, that's right," said Malone...though Emmaline noticed that he didn't sound at all disappointed. "You know, my car isn't moving right now..."

Emmaline expected Sarah to get embarrassed by what he was implying, but instead she bit her lip and grinned at him, like she had been waiting for him to suggest this. Emmaline felt her cheeks warm a little as the pair rushed off with an absent goodbye. In the parking lot? She'd never be _that_ bold.

"You don't get queasy too, do you?" Butch wondered.

Emmaline turned and smiled at him, the naughty couple leaving her mind. "No--though I do get kind of dizzy when I'm in the air."

Butch grinned at her. "Okay, no ferris wheels, then. Think you can take me on the bumper cars?"

Emmaline grinned in return. "I can always try."


	3. Chapter 3

"Last night."

Cecilia looked up from the notebook lying open on the table in front of her. "Huh?"

Emmaline smiled casually and stirred her salad for a moment as her eyes drifted over the outdoor café the two of them were having lunch at. "I know you're going to ask me eventually when I plan to see Butch again, so I thought I'd just tell you. We spent the whole evening together."

Cecilia promptly slapped her notebook shut. "By yourselves?" she asked slyly.

"No," Emmaline replied lightly as she added a touch more croutons. "His best friend and his fiancée were there, too. It was kind of a double-date."

She didn't bother to mention that the pair left early and never came back, leaving her and Butch alone for the remainder of the outing. She also didn't mention that the two of them made out more times on this one date than she had with all her previous boyfriends combined, and that when he drove her home late last night, she had been sorely tempted to invite him in.

But even if it had been her own place and not just a cot she was borrowing in a friend's basement...she wasn't sure she was quite ready for that yet. As if sensing this little boundary without being told, Butch had kissed her chastely goodnight, then watched from his car until she was safely inside. The perfect gentleman.

"So, when are you seeing him again?" Cecilia wondered.

Emmaline shrugged. "We didn't really discuss it."

Cecilia made a snorting sound and stared her down with narrowed eyes, eyebrows raised. Emmaline eventually flushed and looked down at her plate. "I called him this morning. We're meeting later this afternoon, after I fill out an application at that little bank by the museum."

"And then you'll go to the museum, I suppose?"

"Why not? It's right there. After that, we'll see."

Cecilia clucked her tongue. "An athlete with a cultured side...interesting. And you're already on your second date? This is getting serious."

Emmaline flushed and reached for her glass of sparkling water. "Don't be silly," she mumbled.

"Min, I know you better than anyone. You usually have your fill of a guy by the first date, and even when you decide you like him enough to see him again, it usually takes you at least a week to make up your mind to go on another date. If you're seeing him again immediately...for you, that's a huge deal."

Emmaline flushed some more...but she couldn't argue. "Butch is different," she murmured. "There's just something about him. He's special."

"So go for it, then," Cecilia prodded with a grin. "Although," she went on, her amusement fading, "I doubt Steve is going to be too happy when he finds out."

The thought made her heart sink; she'd forgotten all about Steven. Again. "It's not like we were ever actually seeing each other," she ventured.

"Hey, you don't need to convince me. You know I'm not crazy about that guy--and if you were never together, then he can't say that you're breaking up with him by seeing someone else. He doesn't own you."

Emmaline knew she was right...but she still dreaded relaying the news to the lawyer in question. When she finally broke down later that afternoon and called him after she finished filling out the application, he got pretty upset.

"Who?" he demanded.

Somehow, he made that one word an accusation, an order, and a curse, all at the same time. "You don't know him," Emmaline faltered. "His name is Butch Justice."

"Justice?" Steven echoed, his annoyance plain. "Oh, I know him all right--he's been all over the news in the sports world since high school. Supposed to be the most amazing thing to come along in the history of ever--his stats are reportedly through the roof. Come on, Linny, my best friend owns a sports arena. Of course I know who he is."

Emmaline blinked. "Oh," she said, feeling embarrassed--and a little stupid. "I didn't know. I...don't really follow sports."

"Then why the hell are you dating him?"

Her embarrassment swiftly turning to annoyance, Emmaline grew defensive. "Who cares about his profession?" she shot back. "He's good to me. He's the most wonderful, amazing man I've ever met in my life. No one else I know even comes close."

She started to say more, but then she stopped and cringed; she hadn't meant to word it like that. Too late to take it back now, and Steven started to say something--something very loud, and very, very angry.

But then he stopped himself. As the silence stretched on over several minutes, Emmaline started to think that maybe he had hung up--but then he let out a long, slow sigh. "Okay. If that's what you want. I'm sorry you didn't pick me, but I hope you two will be happy together."

And he hung up. Startled, Emmaline stared blankly at the phone in her hand for a moment--and then a sense of relief washed over her. She was sorry she had hurt him like that, but she was glad that he was handling this so maturely. That he was willing to let her go without making a big fuss about it.

With a happy sigh, she ran out of the bank to wait for Butch.

* * *

Over the next few days, Emmaline felt happier than she had in...well, ever. Each time she saw Butch was better than the last. He was smart, he was funny, he knew just how to treat her to make her feel comfortable. Safe. It was better than any book she had ever read, any movie she ever saw. It was real...and it was hers.

And he always seemed just as happy to see her as she was to see him. Sometimes he would look a little tired as she hurried to meet him--training to officially become a professional football player was taxing--but as soon as he saw her, his entire face would light up. He was so radiant sometimes, he almost seemed to glow. And when he looked at her, his green eyes alight, she thought there was no one else alive who was more beautiful.

He thought the same of her, and it always made her flush with pleasure, how he would gaze at her so adoringly, and kiss her hands so softly. They were riding in his car one sunny afternoon, the top down and the wind blowing through their hair, when he took her hand into his and pressed it to his lips. Instead of letting go, he rested his cheek against her fingers, his eyes drinking her in. It was a good thing they were on an empty back road; otherwise she would have told him--reluctantly--to pay attention to his driving instead of her.

"Do you know what today is?"

Emmaline thought for a moment. Nothing special, as far as she knew. Two weeks since she graduated? Oh.

"Two weeks since the day we met," she said softly, smiling shyly.

"Exactly."

He kissed her hand again, then let go and returned his attention to the road. "To celebrate, I've got a little present for you," he commented casually.

Emmaline smiled, her heart warming. "Oh?"

"Nothing special, just a place I want to show you. Something I've never shown anyone before."

If it was something he had never shown anyone before, then she suspected there was indeed something about it that made it very special--to him. The thought that he wanted to share this with her made her heart warm some more...and pick up speed a little. Wherever they were going, it was pretty isolated. Just the two of them, out amid seemingly endless fields full of grass and wildflowers, with trees and underbrush swaying in the distance...

It gave the afternoon, as Cecilia would put it, a certain risk factor.

Flushing at the thought, Emmaline fidgeted in her seat, her eyes dropping to her lap. She noticed for the first time there was something black and boxy nestled under the dashboard, right under the radio. Catching her gaze, Butch smiled at her. "You want to listen to the radio? I don't mind."

"Oh--no, I was just noticing that you have the same phone as Cecilia."

"Oh. I bet I could guess your favorite kind of music, though," he went on, tone teasing.

"You probably could," Emmaline mumbled.

Once somebody saw the kind of food she usually ate, the kind of diners and boutiques she frequented, and learned about what subjects she had studied and the kind of professions she was interested in...they always guessed that she had a fondness for classical music. And they would be right.

"So, which piece is your favorite? You strike me as a Swan Lake, Nutcracker kind of girl."

Emmaline smiled. "Slavic Dance No. 7, actually."

Butch blinked. "Oh," he said, clearly perplexed.

Emmaline chuckled a moment. "Mind if I call Cecilia? I want to ask how her latest interview went."

"Be my guest."

It took her a minute to get familiar with the velcroed contraption, but she soon wrestled the phone free and dialed Cecilia's number. "So, how did everything go this morning?" she asked, after the two friends exchanged greetings.

"Terrible," Cecilia reported, though she was obviously happy about something. "But who cares? I already got a call from that big office downtown. They want me to start next week."

Emmaline started to congratulate her--but then she frowned, puzzled. "You mean, that same office that hired me the other day?"

"The very one! Looks like you just can't get rid of me, huh?"

Emmaline laughed. "I guess not."

"I've got to go sort through some paperwork--you know, medical history and junk, these places always want that--so I'll talk to you later, okay, Min?"

"Absolutely. See you."

She hung up, and Butch, who had been listening to the conversation, reached to take her hand again. "Did I mention that I'm proud of you for finding work so quickly?" he wondered, kissing her fingers softly.

"Uh-huh. More than once, in fact."

He just grinned, kissed her hand again, then let go and returned his own hand to the steering wheel. "I've been wondering about something, though," he said. "That nickname of yours...it doesn't make much sense to me. Your full name is Emma _line_ , not Emma- _Lynn_."

Emmaline felt her cheeks start to warm, and she slumped down in her seat a little. "It goes back to middle school," she mumbled.

Butch glanced at her curiously. "Oh?"

She sighed a little. "I was a lot smaller then, plus I, um...kind of always wore my hair in these big bows covered in polka dots."

For a moment Butch looked blank--but then he started to snicker. "I see."

"I'll bet," she noted dryly.

At least Cecilia had shortened it to Min by their teen years...though she still had no explanation as to why Steven always called her 'Linny.' It was something that made sense to him and him alone.

"What about you?" she asked, with a toss of her hair. "Being named after an adjective is a little unusual, you know."

Butch snickered again. "Totally. My parents were hippies--lazy ones. So before I was born they decided to call me whatever word they thought best described me. I came into the world big and beefy, so there you go."

He winked at her, and Emmaline grinned and relaxed in her seat, watching the scenery go by. A few minutes later, the car started to slow, and Butch pulled off the road and onto a worn patch of dirt near an old power pole. In front of them was another field--fragrant with fresh grass and budding blossoms--and there were rows of trees beyond it.

Butch turned the engine off and got out, then rounded the car and opened her door for her. "It isn't far," he said, as he took her hand and helped her out of the car. "Although," he went on, his gaze dropping to her feet, "those probably aren't the best shoes for this."

Emmaline glanced down at herself. She was wearing what she had put on this morning before heading out to do a little apartment shopping; a loose knee-length skirt, a short-sleeved blouse, and a corduroy vest. On her feet were what she usually wore when she wasn't relaxing at home: pumps with low heels.

They were black ones though, so she was confident that any dirt she picked up could be easily wiped off later without any real damage, so she gave a shrug. "I can manage. Lead the way."

Smiling warmly, Butch slid his arm around her waist and led her out into the field. It was early afternoon, and a beautiful day; the air was warm, with just a touch of coolness to the breeze that came and went, and the sun shone brightly from the clear sky. They crossed the field together in silence, the dirt crunching beneath their feet while birds and insects sang around them. Emmaline felt tempted to kick her shoes off and run through the grass like a child...but that would probably put a run in her nylons, so she kept the urge in check.

Butch led her past the field and into the woods, though the trees were thin enough that it was just as bright in here as out by the road. Before long they came upon a wide, rippling stream full of clear water and flat stones. As they neared, a frog squeaked and dove to safety. It was all beautiful, and Emmaline felt relaxed and a little dreamy as she leaned against Butch's side.

Keeping his arm on her waist, he led her up alongside the stream, until they reached a large rise in the ground--a rise that grew into a hill that stood many feet above her head, casting a shadow on the large pool below. Splashing into the pool was a miniature waterfall.

It was cooler here, and Emmaline shivered a little as Butch urged her closer to the pool. "Just through here," he instructed, indicating to a series of flat rocks poking out of the water. "It would probably be easier if you take your shoes off," he added, as he hopped nimbly to the closest rock.

Nose wrinkled, Emmaline bent and touched her fingertips to the flowing water of the pool. It was crisp, clear, and beautiful...and freezing cold. "I think I'll just keep them on," she said, shivering again.

Butch reached to take her hand, and with his help, she managed to make it across the row of stones, until they were standing out in the pool beside the waterfall. Looking sly now, Butch gave her hand a tug, pulling her around the back of the cascading water and into a tight crevice behind it.

There was no light inside, and she felt her way along blindly as Butch pulled her along. More than once her foot almost slipped. "Are you sure about this?" she asked nervously.

Butch responded by tugging her hand again. "Come on, Minnie Mouse," he teased.

They went a step or two farther, and suddenly the tunnel opened up into a chamber-like room, right in the middle of the hill. Sunlight filtered down through cracks in the ceiling, giving everything a soft bluish-white glow. Uneven rock and dirt circled around the edges, surrounding a large pool of water. The shadows of fish darted around beneath the still surface.

With a quiet sigh, Butch slid his arms around her from behind and rested his head against hers. "I come here whenever I want to be alone," he murmured. "When I need to clear my head and think. My father showed me this place, years ago. I've kept it to myself until now."

Emmaline swallowed, her throat suddenly turning thick. Her mind filled with memories of her own father, and she found herself saying, very softly, "My father and I had our own special place, too. There was this little hollow out in the woods behind the house we lived in when I was small."

She had few memories of her father, but she clearly remembered the two of them sitting out in that clearing, her father telling her stories as they watched the butterflies flutter by. Sniffling, she hastily wiped her eyes.

Butch tenderly kissed her cheek, then rubbed a hand over her arm with a frown. "You're freezing. Come on, let's go back."

Emmaline gave a nod, wrapping her arms around herself as she turned away from the pool. "We should come back in the summertime," Butch commented, as he hopped easily from stone to stone. "It's loads warmer then. You should hear how it echoes when you bring a radio in here."

Emmaline gave a silent nod as she stepped gingerly up onto the flattest stone she could find, though it wobbled a little under her weight. In front of her, Butch turned to lean a hand out to her. Emmaline stretched to grab it--and felt the heel of her left shoe twist as the stone wobbled again. She wound up kicking into her own right leg, knocking herself off balance. The next thing she knew, she had slipped off her perch altogether--and was plunging into the ice-cold pool.

The impact was like a hard slap to her entire body. It was so cold, it felt like she had locked up with shock from head to toe--including her lungs, which didn't have a chance to draw in a whole lot of air before her head went under. But then her wits flooded back to her, and she kicked back to the surface, coughing and gasping as her head broke free. Her hands were numb as she fumbled for the edge of the pool, trying to find a handhold--and then a pair of warm hands were grabbing her wrists. Before she could take another breath, she was yanked out of the water and set to the ground again.

Her feet slipped on the mossy rocks and her numb legs threatened to buckle; Butch hastily hooked an arm under her knees and hoisted in his arms. "Probably should've carried you the entire time," he muttered, looking irritated with himself. "I'm sorry, Em."

Emmaline coughed again and huddled, shivering, against his warm chest. "Look on the bright side," she said weakly, wiggling her toes. "I don't have to worry about my shoes anymore."

Butch chuckled, but he didn't put her down after they made it back outside. He carried her over the stepping stones and back across the field, not stopping until he reached his car. "I'm still dripping wet," she faltered, as he sat her in the passenger seat.

"It's just vinyl," he said firmly. "It'll dry."

While he hopped into the driver seat and started the car, she tried not to shiver too hard as she rubbed her icy fingers together. The spring air didn't feel so warm anymore. And the gentle breeze felt chilling. Frowning hard, Butch put the top of the convertible back up before he pulled away. "It's pretty far to Beth's," he commented, still frowning. "Would you mind if we stopped by my apartment first? I can put your clothes in the dryer for you."

"Does your apartment have coffee?" Emmaline asked, teeth chattering.

"Lots."

Emmaline shivered and curled up on the seat. "Good."


	4. Chapter 4

Emmaline had seen the outside of Butch's apartment before, but she had never been inside. That afternoon she discovered it was of average size, with a nicely-furnished living room, a decent-sized kitchen, and a reasonably tidy bathroom. It smelled clean, at least, though there were several piles of dirty clothes on the floor, plus a grubby pair of sneakers. Looking embarrassed, Butch hastily shoved the clothes aside and kicked the sneakers behind the toilet. "I, uh, keep meaning to get a hamper," he said.

Emmaline just smiled, though she was still chilled to the bone. "It's fine."

At least he knew _how_ to do his own laundry; Steven had to pay somebody to do his. Clearing his throat, Butch set a folded shirt on the edge of the sink. "I don't really have anything that'll really fit you," he faltered. "I mean, I'd lend you some pants or something, but I don't think they'd stay up."

He flushed and didn't look her in the eye, and Emmaline felt her heart melt. "It's fine," she said again, reaching to give his hand a squeeze. She discovered that he felt extra-warm and, not wanting to chill him off, hastily let go. "It's only for a little while."

And she imagined that any shirt worn by such a towering specimen was bound to hang on her like a dress. She wasn't worried. "Just leave your wet things out in the hall when you're done," Butch instructed, before hastily darting out and closing the door behind him.

Alone, Emmaline gratefully began peeling off her sopping wet clothes. Her nylons were torn on the bottoms of the feet, so she balled them up and threw them away before wiggling out of her skirt. It took her several tries before she got the hang of unbuttoning her blouse when it was soaked, but she eventually worked both it and her vest off. She folded everything in a loose pile, then surveyed herself in the mirror above the sink.

Her skin was like milk and her veins were a vibrant blue-purple contrast, and her hair was tangled. She was still in her underwear; satin trimmed with lace, and colored rose today. She had never worn soaked undies for an extended period of time before, and she found that she didn't like the experience in the least. Still, she debated with herself for a while, absently rubbing her milky arms as she thought, before slipping them off, followed by her bra.

Then, shivering, she reached over and unfolded the shirt Butch left her. A football jersey, she discovered, colored red and white with a number one printed on the front. There were deep lines across the front and sleeves, like it had been sitting in a drawer for a while, but it smelled clean...and a little like Butch.

Shivering again, though not from the cold, Emmaline gave herself a shake and slid the over-sized--well, over-sized for her--shirt over her head. When she tugged it into place, it didn't quite hang where she would feel comfortable, but...she probably wouldn't feel comfortable in anything less than pants, running around without her undies like this.

Giving herself another shake, she opened the door a crack and peeked out. Butch was nowhere in sight, but she could smell coffee brewing. Awkwardly, she set the bundle of clothes on the floor and called, "I'm ready."

Which was a silly thing to say, because she didn't feel the least bit ready to go roaming around like this, and she absently rubbed one bare leg against the other as she waited. When she heard Butch's heavy footsteps approach, she shyly ducked back behind the door.

"Low or high heat?" he suddenly asked.

"Oh--low. The blouse might shrink otherwise."

"Gotcha."

His footsteps retreated again, followed by a heavy silence. Emmaline fidgeted for a moment, drumming her toes against the cold tile floor, before she finally worked up the courage to step out of the bathroom.

The carpet of the hallway felt plush and nice beneath her chilly feet, and she almost shivered again as she stepped off it and onto the linoleum of the kitchen. Having never been in an athlete's apartment before--or any man's apartment, for that matter--she had been expecting a distinctly masculine environment, but for the most part everything felt comfortably neutral and welcoming to anyone. The walls of the kitchen were white, with gray marbling on the counter tops. The dark wood of the cabinets matched the table pushed up against one wall.

She drifted over to the counter by the fridge, where the coffee pot was gurgling. Butch had already gotten out two mugs, so when the brewing finished, she poured herself a steaming cupful...though when she sniffed the dark brew, she paused.

It smelled awfully strong, but she didn't know where the sugar was--or if he even had any--and she didn't want to start poking around without permission. So she waited a few minutes, warming her thankful hands on the hot mug as she leaned her rear back against the counter.

Butch returned shortly, sneakers squeaking on the linoleum as he came into the kitchen. Emmaline looked up with a smile. "I was just wondering..."

She trailed off. Butch had come to a halt in the doorway, the strangest look on his face. Emmaline felt awkward and exposed all over again, and she tried not to squirm or call too much attention to her bare legs...or how bare her bottom felt right now. If Cecilia were in her place right now, she would probably make a crack about things being a little drafty or something.

The thought almost made her choke. If Cecilia were in a position like this, she would probably...

She hastily pushed that thought aside before it had a chance to fully form. In the doorway, Butch gave himself a shake and hurried over to a cabinet. "Sugar?" he asked, his voice oddly high.

Emmaline smiled at him. "Yes, please."

Ordinarily she used creamer, too, but as she watched Butch pour himself a mug and then chug half of it down in a matter of seconds, she decided not to bother asking if he had any. She made do with a healthy amount of sugar and took small sips, though the first taste nearly made her cough.

She still felt uncomfortably aware of her attire--or lack thereof--and she wiggled her toes on the floor as she glanced down at herself. "Is this really your number?" she wondered, her eyes on the jersey.

"Uh-huh--back in high school. Still is, in fact."

She heard him take another gulp. Smiling faintly, she smoothed her hand over the shirt, imagining that he had been just as thoughtful and courteous as a teenager as he was now. "It's a lot of pressure, isn't it?"

Butch made a strange sound. "What?"

Emmaline looked at him with a frown; his voice sounded funny again. And he was giving her the weirdest look over his mug. "The number," she explained, laughing uncertainly as she pointed to the front of the jersey.

"Oh. Right."

He laughed a little and went to sit at the table. Emmaline didn't feel comfortable with the thought of sitting right now, so she stayed where she was, and the two of them sipped in silence for a while. Well, she sipped. Butch gulped the rest of his mug down and got up to pour another.

Emmaline glanced away shyly as he reached past her for the coffee pot, his hand brushing her bare arm. Butch paused, then slowly set his mug down and took her hand in his. "You're still freezing," he noted with a frown.

Emmaline just shrugged, not knowing what to say. It was warm enough inside the apartment, but she had never properly dried off, and even though it had mostly dried by now, her hair was still a little damp. Butch noticed, reaching up to run a hand over her tangled locks. His hands still felt unusually warm, and she was tempted to grab onto them until her own fingers lost their chill. She kept her urges in check and glanced away, feeling uncertain, but in the end Butch took her hands in his and started rubbing warmth into them anyway.

"I'm really sorry this happened," he said, looking irritated with himself again.

"Don't be," Emmaline said quickly, raising her eyes to his. "It was a wonderful thing to share and I'm glad you did. Only," she went on, laughing a little, "next time we go, warn me first, so I can dress properly."

Butch smiled faintly, his eyes locked with hers. "Maybe we could have a picnic," he suggested.

"That would be nice," she agreed, smiling.

On impulse, she stood on tiptoe and pecked his lips. His smile faded.

For a moment Emmaline thought he was upset about something--and then, with an exhale of breath, he gripped her waist, yanked her to him and crushed their mouths together. The suddenness of it left her breathless, and her head swam as she grappled for him, her hands clinging to the fabric of his shirt. His lips were like fire as they moved over hers, kissing her over and over again as his arms wrapped around her, drawing her so close to him she could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

She felt something else, too. Something that left her flushing with embarrassment and frozen in place for fear of making it worse. She'd never been in this position before--not even close--and she wasn't sure what to say or do. Butch didn't seem to share her uncertainty; his hands were firm and strong as they stroked her torso through the shirt, caressing her sides, her back. He didn't try to touch her anywhere else, and she knew in that moment that he wouldn't. Not unless she told him he could.

His mouth drifted away from her face, his lips searing across her cheek and down her throat, probing for her most sensitive places, finding them, kissing them until her pulse raced and her hands trembled as she clutched at him. She didn't feel so cold anymore.

That same heat she'd felt the night of the carnival was pooling again, causing the muscles of her stomach to tighten. She felt extremely conscious of how bare she was just below the hem of Butch's shirt, of how the air seemed to kiss at her exposed skin as the fabric shifted against her thighs.

As Butch's arms tightened around her, muscles rippling, the hem lifted almost dangerously high. Yet his hands stayed to safe areas, though the way he stroked her sensitive sides was no less sensual. It left her longing for more--much more, and she found herself cupping his face and kissing him back with a passion she didn't know she had.

I want this, she thought distantly, as their tongues entwined. I'll share this with you if you ask me. Please ask me, Butch.

She knotted her hands in his long hair as she kissed his face and down to the hollow of his throat, inhaling his rich, musky scent into her lungs. His breath felt hot as his lips brushed against her ear, kissing it tenderly. His hands coiled into her hair as he cradled her head. "Em," he whispered, lips still pressed to her ear. "May I?"

Emmaline let out the breath she'd been holding. " _Yes_."

He needed no further encouragement. With a suddenness that made her gasp in surprise, he locked his arms around her and hoisted her up, her legs automatically hooking around his waist while her arms went around his shoulders. One of his hands pressed to the back of her neck, bringing her face close enough so he could claim her lips again.

As he kissed her with a fervor that left her breathless and trembling, Butch turned and left the kitchen. Emmaline continued to cling to him, kissing him back with her own fevered passion, her lips growing plump and rosy from the onslaught. Growling softly against her mouth, Butch nudged a door open with his foot--and then he was lowering her onto a soft bed, his body lying flush against hers.

Her shirt had ridden up farther and the denim of his jeans was brushing between her legs. Emmaline didn't have time to catch her breath, or even think before he had pulled the shirt off the rest of the way and tossed it aside. His hands were everywhere then; caressing over her sides, exploring the plains of her stomach, stroking her breasts. His fingers--and his lips--found her nipples, and he lavished them with soft touches and moist kisses.

Emmaline moaned and writhed beneath his touch, her head spinning as her heart raced wildly. Her skin felt hot and tingly, like it was electrically charged, begging for the feel of his slightly calloused hands. The heat between her legs had peaked to an ache, and she squirmed with a gasp as Butch started kissing down her torso.

"I-I've never done this before," she faltered, panting. The admission sent a fresh bloom of heat to her face, and she watched him shyly as he paused and looked at her.

If he was surprised, or if he had figured that out on his own by now, it didn't show in the warm, tender smile he gave her. "I'll be gentle. I promise."

It was a promise he didn't break. Even though he was obviously flushed with his own desire, his touch stayed soft, his pace slow. He took his time and didn't stop, even when she gasped and clawed at his hair as his lips moved to the apex of her legs. It was indescribable, the kind of pleasure he was able to give her, so smoothly and easily. In a matter of seconds he had her breathless and writhing, her hands clutching at the bedding as her body arched. Sensations like nothing she had ever experienced before coiled deep inside her, until she was crying out at the top of her lungs.

When the sensations faded her body went slack, and she lay panting, her eyelids half-open and sweaty as she watched Butch step back from the bed. Her heart, racing like a wild jackrabbit, still managed to hiccup for an instant as he started to undress. She suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed, and she had to fight the urge to curl her knees to her chest.

Her apprehension must have shown on her face, because as Butch stretched out over her, fully undressed, he gently cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. "I'll never hurt you," he whispered. "Never."

And then he was inside her. A moment that came and went so swiftly she couldn't be sure if it had hurt or not. Maybe it had, a little, but it passed so quickly, and Butch moved so gently as he held her close and tight in his arms, in a moment she was moaning softly as pleasure began to build steadily inside her.

Before long she was crying out again as the searing heat reached its peak. Growling again, Butch clamped his mouth over hers, like he was trying to drink in the sounds she was making. His motions never stopped, just like his hands never paused as they roamed her body, caressing and teasing everywhere they could reach. Though her body was on fire and her mind was spinning, Emmaline tried to return the attention, running her feet up and down the backs of his muscled legs as she lightly drew her nails down his back.

His hands were a little bit rough, but the rest of him was like flawless silk. Every part of him was taut and toned--perfect. She reveled in the feel of his skin as she explored the plains of his sides, the contours of his shoulders--shoulders she dug her fingers into as another wave of pleasure, roiling and exotic, flooded through her core.

She sang out her delight as she arched and writhed against him, wanting him to know just how good he was making her feel. She wanted to tell him so, but she was pretty sure she couldn't form a single coherent word if she tried. Instead she moaned and sighed her ecstasy in his ear as she kissed and nuzzled his cheek. Butch moaned along with her as his lips scorched across her face and throat.

Suddenly he stopped, his forehead coming to rest against hers as the movements of his body slowed almost to a halt. His face was deeply flushed and dewy with sweat, and he swallowed thickly and shut his eyes for a moment before he spoke. "May I?" he asked, his voice low and husk with desire.

Understanding what he meant, Emmaline nodded as she tightened her arms around him. "Yes," she whispered.

He kissed her a moment, then slid a hand down to the small of her back, pressing her hard against him as he started thrusting with renewed vigor. Emmaline clung to him and shut her eyes, letting herself get lost under the sensations inside her as she listened to the sounds of their pleasure mixing together in a unique harmony. She cried out sharply as her insides suddenly clenched tightly as one final climax pulsed through her center. Butch cried out right along with her as his own climax claimed him.

When the feelings inside her finally faded, Emmaline let herself go limp, though she continued to quiver uncontrollably. She let out a little yelp of surprise as Butch suddenly rolled, turning so she lay on his chest. With an exhale of air, he let himself go slack. Beneath her ear, his heart continued to pound, though it gradually started to slow.

Her eyelids felt heavy, and she let them close, already feeling the whisper of sleep creeping up. She barely noticed when Butch tugged the blanket up over them, though a faint smile touched her lips as he kissed her cheek. Then sleep crept over her like a fog, and she let it carry her away and into a dream.


	5. Chapter 5

Awareness of the world returned slowly. When Emmaline finally blinked her eyes open, for a moment she wasn't sure where she was--but it all came back to her quickly. What she had experienced...and who she had experienced it with.

Her body was warm and pleasantly heavy, and she felt lazy and content. She started to shift a little--and let out a gasp of surprise as a pair of arms tightened around her, a quiet voice mumbling a protest in her ear.

She was lying on her side, and a firm, muscled arm was hooked around her back, the hand of it clutching her shoulder. Another arm was across her side, resting on the small of her back...a position that had her firmly pressed against the pelvis next to hers. Their legs were tangled together, their nether regions so close that she could feel the heat radiating from him, even though they weren't quite touching. It brought a warm flush to her skin, and she tried to edge back a little; Butch responded by tightening his arms again. Like she was too precious to let go of for even an instant.

It made something warm open up inside her heart and tears moisten her eyes. Smiling, she shifted her head, which was lying on his shoulder, until she could see his face, then kissed his lips softly. "Hey," she whispered, brushing her nose against his. "Are you awake?"

Butch mumbled something again and fidgeted, then slowly opened his eyes. He blinked at her sleepily for a moment, a smile spreading across his lips. "Hey, Minnie Mouse."

Emmaline giggled. "Hey," she returned shyly.

His eyes searched her face for a moment, something deep inside them glowing softly. "Em?"

She lifted her eyebrows in question; he tenderly kissed her lips. "I love you," he whispered.

That warmth growing in her heart spilled out into her veins, and her eyes moistened again even as a smile burst across her face. "I love you, too."

The joy that lit across his face was dazzling, as was the smile he gave her--before his lips claimed hers again. Things built between them quickly after that, until he was rolling over as she, trembling, hooked her legs around him, her body waiting and eager for him.

It was a much quicker experience than yesterday's encounter, fueled by the passion of what was just spoken between them...though she had a feeling that even as they broke away, spent and panting, Butch could recover for seconds in a hurry. "I'd love to continue, but I think I have to pee," she said weakly.

Butch laughed a little as he sat up and pushed her hair off her face. "Feel free to take a shower while you're at it," he said, bending to peck her lips. "And your clothes ought to be dry by now," he added wryly.

As he rolled out of bed and grabbed a clean pair of jeans, Emmaline looked over at the clock on the nightstand and saw that it wasn't quite six in the morning yet. Good thing she didn't have anything planned for the day, and that her new job didn't start until next week. She'd have never made it in time.

While Butch headed, whistling, off to the kitchen, Emmaline slipped out of bed and scampered to the bathroom, where she took a warm shower. She felt so relaxed, so happy, but she didn't linger under the spray for too long; she was too anxious to rejoin the man she loved.

Heart soaring, she dried off in a hurry, then tugged on a t-shirt she found hanging on the back of the door. She had never been a fan of the baggy look, but she was starting to like how Butch's clothes hung on her, so loose and breezy.

When she left the bathroom, she was surprised to find the athlete in question leaning against the wall outside the door, arms folded casually, like he was waiting for her. Smiling--a touch slyly, she thought--he took her hand in his and placed his other hand on her waist, casually guiding her down the hall and into the kitchen. A slew of warm, delicious odors greeted her: hot coffee, buttered toast, fresh pancakes and waffles smothered in syrup.

Her mouth watered as Butch ushered her over to the table, where he gallantly pulled a seat out for her. While he sat down across from her, Emmaline gave her head a shake. "Are you sure you're not really an angel?"

Butch gave her a funny look. "Why?" he asked, patting his nose suddenly. "Did I bust my face up when I fell from heaven or something?"

"No," said Emmaline, laughing. "Your face is perfect. And so is the rest of you...which is kind of my point."

His smile tight, Butch leaned his chin on his palm and watched her slice her pancakes, ignoring the contents of his own plate. "Have you looked at any apartments yet?" he asked, tone light and casual.

Emmaline paused and looked at him. "A few," she said slowly. "Why?"

Though she already had an inkling why he was asking.

His smile broadening, his eyes flicked around the kitchen before resting on her again. "You like this place?" he said, tone just as casual as before.

Emmaline bit her lip. "Butch...are you asking me to move in with you?"

His smile fading, Butch reached across the table and took her hand. "Please?" he said, kissing her fingers before resting his cheek on them. "I love being with you. And now that I've had a taste of having you here with me, I don't want to give it up. I just can't get enough of you," he murmured, nuzzling her hand. "I want to wake up with you in my arms every morning."

He kept his cheek on her hand as his eyes watched her dreamily. Emmaline fidgeted in her chair. "I don't know if that's a good idea," she murmured, glancing away.

Butch's smile faded. "Why not?" he asked, his expression and tone both stern and teasing. Stern because he hadn't been expecting her to refuse...and teasing because he was pretty sure she was joking.

"Because if that's how you always ask for something, I'm going to have an awfully hard time ever saying no to you."

He grinned, kissed her hand one last time before letting go and grabbing his fork. "We'll go get all your things right after breakfast," he said eagerly.

Emmaline chuckled at his enthusiasm...but inside, her heart was thumping. She would be the first to admit that this was all moving pretty fast--something that Cecilia made sure to mention slyly a few days later, when Emmaline filled her in on the news...right before she called to tell her mother.

"You could have introduced him while I was out for your graduation," was her mother's only complaint.

"I would have," Emmaline said honestly, "but things hadn't progressed that far between us yet."

She didn't go on to say that they had only just met that very afternoon. She was pretty sure that underneath her prods and winks, Cecilia thought she was crazy, as did everyone else she knew. Emmaline couldn't argue; she was completely in love, and completely out of her head because of it.

But did that mean she had misgivings? Not a one. Sure it was fast, but when they were together, every fiber of her being said that it was all right. She was safe with Butch--safe, comfortable and secure, and every last thing about being with him felt so _right_.

And it didn't take long for her to grow used to sharing an apartment with him, a change that went swift and smooth. Butch was perfectly willing and glad to share his closet and dresser with her, plus he bought her an extra chest of drawers for the things she didn't feel quite comfortable cramming in with things like his gym shorts.

Everything fell into place seamlessly, as if their lives were always meant to mesh together. And if someone were to ask her if she thought that they were supposed to...she would have said yes.

But they had their separate lives to deal with, too. Emmaline started her new job, which she was excited about...even if, for the time being, she was little more than a glorified secretary. And it was nice to work close to Cecilia who, despite her wild ways in her personal life, kept her work ethic strictly professional. Meanwhile, Butch, Malone, and the rest of the team were training harder than ever, and Emmaline gave her support wherever she could, even coming to watch when she had the chance...though she still had no idea what went on out on the field.

"What kind of name is 'Monsters' for a football team, anyway?" Emmaline asked one evening, while she and Butch were relaxing in a pizza parlor with Malone and Sarah.

"It's to strike terror in our opponents," Malone informed her with a grin.

"Totally," Butch agreed.

Malone flexed and gave his most intimidating glare. Sarah giggled. "You're not terrifying," she said, as she cuddled her way into his lap. "You're my big, snuggly teddy bear."

"Well, don't go spreading that around, please."

Emmaline laughed and shook her head, then turned to Butch. "When are they getting married?" she wondered.

She would have asked the couple directly, but they were a little distracted at the moment. "In the fall," Butch responded. He gave her an odd smile--both sly and smug--and snaked a hand around her waist. "Are you about done?" he asked, as he leaned closer and nuzzled her cheek.

"And how," said Emmaline.

She didn't ordinarily eat pizza, but she liked eating out with Butch and his friends and didn't want to seem like too much of a priss by only ever ordering salad or something, so she had ordered a plain cheese thin-crust and a lemonade. Across the table, both Malone's and Sarah's plates were still pretty full, but they looked too busy exhibiting behavior that was a little racy for a family restaurant to finish. "I'm ready for the check," Butch told the waitress as she passed by. "And bring some doggy bags for the love-birds here."

The pair broke away long enough to laugh before locking lips again. Emmaline cleared her throat and smoothed her skirt as she stood. Butch graciously paid for everything, then slid his arm around her waist as they bade goodbye to the 'love-birds', who vaguely waved goodbye in return. "Are we like that?" she wondered as they left the parlor.

Butch snickered and nuzzled her cheek again. "Sometimes," he said, voice low with desire...a tone that sent a shiver through her.

"We're in public," she reminded him.

Granted, it was pretty late, and there was only a handful of other cars parked in the lot. Butch must have noticed this too, because he merely grinned as he shifted his hands over her stomach and kissed the tender side of her throat. Emmaline shivered again, moaning quietly.

By the time they reached Butch's car, she was wrapped in his arms and walking backward, the two of them shuffling along as their mouths meshed. Coiling her fingers into his hair, she parted her lips and stroked her tongue across his, making him moan loudly in response. Her back bumped up against the side of the car.

"Home," he mumbled against her mouth, fumbling for his keys.

Emmaline moaned against his lips, then snaked a hand down to his tight bottom and squeezed gently. "Mmm. Too far," she murmured.

Butch's eyebrows shot up. "Why, Miss Drogues," he said, surprised both by her brazenness and by what she was suggesting. "Sure, we're not parked under a light, but..."

Grunting, Emmaline fumbled behind her for the door handle, then pushed him into the back seat. "Then you're just going to have to lay down here where no one can see you," she purred.

He continued to watch her with quiet--and slightly amused--surprise in his eyes, but he didn't protest as she pressed him down on the back seat and crawled on top of him. As she cupped his head with one hand and kissed him, she slid her other hand down to the zipper of his jeans, while thinking to herself: never that bold? Or maybe sooner.

* * *

A few days later, Emmaline happily left work and headed down the front steps, eager to get home. Only she soon saw that she didn't have to go that far to see the one she shared the apartment with; Butch was parked at the curb, the top of his convertible down. He had his arm draped casually over the steering wheel as she hurried closer. "I have my own car, you know," she said wryly.

"We can come back for it," he said calmly, before leaning over to open the passenger door for her.

As soon as she slid into the front seat, Butch gathered her in his arms and planted a heated kiss on her lips. "Have I mentioned recently that I love you?" he asked.

"Hmm--once or twice," she murmured, before crushing her lips to his again.

When they finally parted, she smoothed her hair and buckled in. "So, where to today?" she wondered, as Butch started the engine and pulled away.

"An old park that's been run down and all but condemned for years," Butch responded casually.

Emmaline wrinkled her nose. "You mean that place out near the forest preserve at the outskirts of town? It's been falling apart since I was a kid. Why would you want to go there?"

"Because one of the first things our lady mayor did after she was elected was procure funding to have it restored."

"Oh."

They drove in pleasant silence for a while, though Emmaline noticed that Butch seemed a little agitated about something. He kept tapping his hand on the steering wheel and sneaking glances at her. She asked him once if something was on his mind, but he just smiled and shook his head.

When Butch parked alongside a walk lined with trees and shut the engine off, Emmaline got out and looked around in surprise. The place she remembered had dead trees, bare patches of ground and crumbling sidewalk paths; the park in front of them had a lovely stone fence with an arched gate, and beyond it was a round patio with cafe tables, and cobblestone paths wound farther inside. The grass was thick and vibrant, and she saw glimpses of old-fashioned lamp posts and wrought iron benches between the slender young trees.

Emmaline let out a happy sigh. "It's lovely," she decided.

Butch looked pleased. "Thought you'd like it," he said, slipping his arm around her waist.

They headed inside together, and on the other side of the gate near the tables was an ice cream vendor. Butch purchased two small cones before taking her hand and continuing on.

Aside from the new trees, there were small flower gardens planted along the path, framed by tiny wire fences. It was a wonderful place for a family outing, or for a young couple to spend the day and just enjoy being together. Sighing quietly in contentment, Emmaline rested her head on Butch's arm.

"Don't let your ice cream melt," he teased.

She laughed and poked him, then took a moment to finish off her small treat before cuddling her head on his arm again. They continued to walk at a leisurely pace, until they came upon a large pond in the center, with more benches set at intervals around it. Emmaline pulled away from Butch and looked down at the water, glistening under the light of the setting sun. It was so clear, she could almost see down to the bottom.

"They must have filled it only recently," she noted, "and there must not be any fish. Too clean."

Butch chuckled quietly. "I think they're stocking it soon. And there's already some ducks."

Only a few. Not enough for her to feel uncomfortable with heading down the rise in the ground, finding a small, sandy patch at the shoreline and slipping off her shoes. A faint breeze teased her skirt as she dipped her toes in the water, poking them into the gritty pebbles just below the surface. She tilted her face to the sky and took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the sweet-smelling air around her.

Several minutes passed, still playing her toes in the water, before she noticed how quiet it was. Just the gentle slap of the water against the shore, the lazy quacking of the handful of ducks as they paddled around. Emmaline turned around and looked up at Butch, who was still standing up near the path, hands in his pockets. His expression was solemn as he watched her, the waning light glowing off his face.

Feeling shy, he was looking at her so intently, she absently curled a lock of hair around her finger. "What is it?" she asked softly.

He gave his head a small shake. "Just watching how you look right now. You know your hair looks like it's on fire on the inside in this light? It's unreal."

Emmaline flushed, but she smiled. " _You're_ unreal."

He shook his head again, though his eyes never left her. "It amazes me sometimes. How I look through your eyes."

"I could say the same thing about you."

He chuckled then and came down to her, reaching for her hands. "Call it a draw?" he joked.

"Let's."

She took his hands, and he leaned to kiss her upturned face. As his mouth found hers, his hand slid over the fingers of her left hand. She felt something cool and smooth slip around her ring finger...like a band.

Heart popping in her chest, Emmaline pulled her mouth away and looked down--and almost fell into the pond. "Oh, Butch..."

She had never seen a more beautiful ring in her life. The band was made from polished white gold that glistened in the light, though it was the stones that took her breath away. A circle of oval-shaped diamonds, colors alternating from white to pink, centered around the main stone: a teardrop-shaped pink diamond. She suddenly felt so faint, Butch had to grab her to keep her legs from buckling.

"This must have cost a fortune," she said weakly, her head swimming.

Butch kissed her forehead. "More than most college tuitions," he cracked. "But that's all right. It's for forever."

"Oh..."

It was a lame thing to say, but it was all she could get out before her head sank forward and rested against his chest. She hadn't seen this coming, and it left her mind reeling. She could barely feel her own fingers as they gripped at his shirt; Butch put his arms around her and held her tight.

"Please," he said softly. "I know we haven't known each other a full month yet, but I don't need any more time to know that you're the one I want. I love you more than anything, Em. I could never be happy with or love anyone but you."

He held her tighter. Emmaline felt her eyes start to moisten. "Okay," she whispered.

His smile was brighter than the setting sun as he gripped her waist and lifted her so her feet left the ground. Sniffling, she put her arms around his neck and rested her forehead against his. "Was that a yes?" he asked, voice teasing.

Emmaline laughed and sniffled again. "Yes. I told you, I can't say no to you for anything."

Grin dazzling, Butch pulled her closer and kissed her for a long moment. When they finally parted for air, he set her to her feet and said, "You think we can get away with making love right here?"

Emmaline wrinkled her nose. "Uh, no."

Butch snickered. "See? You can say no to me. Just don't make a habit of it."

Emmaline just smiled and cuddled her head on his chest again. "You know, the sooner you stop talking, the sooner we can go home and celebrate," she commented, lowering her voice so it was husk and breathy.

And if there was one thing she had learned during the time they had lived together...it was that Butch needed very little coaxing to get him into the bedroom.


	6. Chapter 6

"It's official. You're _both_ crazy," Cecilia declared one afternoon, with her usual frankness.

"Well, thank you," said Emmaline, as she looked down at the list in her hand. "Are you hungry yet? Because I'd like to stop at the florist before we take a break. It's just down the street."

Cecilia shook her head as she fell in pace beside her. "It's one thing to get engaged so soon, but to immediately get married...?"

"It's what Butch wants," Emmaline said evenly. "He's going to be very busy over the next few months, so he wants us to get married now, without a whole lot of fuss. It's fine with me. I don't need a huge, over-the-top wedding to prove that I love the man I'm marrying."

"Maybe so, but there's no harm in waiting until things calm down a little, right? I mean, Malone and Sarah aren't getting married until near the end of the year, and they've been dating for years."

Emmaline shrugged and slid her list into her purse. "True--they've been planning to get married since high school. They originally wanted to have the wedding right after college, but Sarah's mother decided she'd like to have it at her grandfather's vineyard. Things got shuffled around after that, and in the end it was rescheduled for fall."

Cecilia turned quiet for a moment. As they turned a corner and headed up the walk to the florist's, she said quietly, "I guess what I'm trying to get at is...are you sure you've thought this through?"

"Yes," Emmaline said firmly. "I know it's insanely fast, but...I also know that Butch is the one I want to be with. There'll never be another one like him, ever. I want to grab on and never let go when I have the chance."

They paused outside the door, Cecilia studying her for a moment. Then she leaned over and gave her a tight hug. "If you're happy, then I'm happy for you," she stated. "I'm glad you've found a guy you can depend on. That isn't an easy thing to come by."

"Wow, is that a sign of sensibleness?" Emmaline teased as they headed inside the shop.

Cecilia snorted. "Don't get used to it. Marriage is _not_ for me."

That might have been so, but Emmaline had come to the conclusion that marriage was definitely for her. Even as the affair pulled together at an almost breakneck speed, her heart thumped in happy anticipation. They were getting married at the end of the week, and the ceremony would be held in the biggest, prettiest church in the whole town--she had picked it out herself. They weren't inviting a big crowd, since she only had her mother, and Butch didn't have any family at all, but everything was rounded out nicely with her friends from college and work, and Butch's friends and members of his team.

After the ceremony Emmaline's mother--who was flying out early to meet the groom--was treating everyone to dinner at a big diner that was just a few blocks away from the church. And then...she and Butch were flying off to spend a week honeymooning in Hawaii. Emmaline had been to numerous places across the country and over in Europe, but this was her first time visiting anywhere tropical.

Her heart thumping in excitement again as she pictured the big day, Emmaline went over to the front counter and started discussing floral arrangements with the shop owner. They weren't ordering much; just some wreaths to put outside, plus a lattice-work arch covered in vines and flowers that would be nice to pose for pictures under. Her bridesmaids were handling decorating the inside of the church, which would be little more than bows on the pews. She and Butch wanted to keep it simple.

Ordering the things she wanted didn't take long, and a few minutes later she and Cecilia headed back out of the shop. "By the way," said Emmaline, smiling, "thanks for being my maid of honor."

Cecilia smiled in return and hooked her arm around her shoulders. "Hey, what are best friends for?"

* * *

Emmaline drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, but it did nothing to calm the slight trembling in her fingers. She was standing on a low stool in one of the back rooms of the church, gazing at her own reflection in the full-length mirror across from her. She was dressed in a wedding gown that had a design that was both classic and timeless, with soft organza sleeves dotted with delicate beadwork. The bodice was snug and figure-hugging--satin covered with lace appliques and more beadwork. She had originally been looking at a gown with a higher neckline...but Cecilia had convinced her that there was absolutely nothing wrong with a bride looking just a touch sexy for her groom, so the gown she was wearing had a slightly daring heart-shaped neckline.

The back was even more daring, since it cut into a severe 'v' that ran down almost to the small of her back, but it was mostly covered by her hair and veil, so she didn't mind. The waist of the gown dropped just a little, accentuating the curve of her hips, until the skirt flared out in a soft waterfall of glistening white tulle and organza over a thin skirt of satin, which was barely visible beneath the gauzy mound. There were more beaded appliques on the skirt, and she made sure that the silver clips holding back her curled hair matched their flowery shape. On her feet were a pair of glossy silver pumps with lace overlays.

Standing behind her was Cecilia, smoothing Emmaline's skirt and making sure that her hair was perfect, while her mother was watching from close by. She had a tissue in her hand, and she kept dabbing her eyes and sniffling. "You look beautiful," she said, her voice thick with tears.

Emmaline smiled faintly as her own throat started to thicken. "Thanks, Mom," she said quietly.

"No blubbering," Cecilia ordered. "You'll ruin your makeup."

Emmaline laughed softly and accepted the bouquet that Cecilia thrust into her hand, though she didn't promise to keep her eyes dry for the entire day. She'd made sure that all her makeup today was of the waterproof variety, so a few tears wouldn't hurt.

She adjusted her hold on the bouquet, then looked at her reflection again. This wasn't where she thought she would end up barely a month out of college--but then she hadn't really planned out what she was going to do and when. This is where her life had taken her, and when it came down to it, it didn't really matter if she had planned for it to happen or not. It was wonderful.

She barely recognized the face looking back at her, so open and hopeful, her dark red hair styled perfectly with tumbling curls that softly framed her face beneath her veil. Her eyes looked wide and bright, her cheeks rosy, her lips dewy. Small silver studs glittered in her ears. Cecilia clucked her tongue. "No doubt about it. Your guy's going to want to skip the formalities and jump right into the honeymoon."

Emmaline let out a laugh and turned around--just as the door opened. A quiet murmur ran through the other bridesmaids in the room, while Cecilia turned around and folded her arms with her hardest scowl on her face. "What the hell do _you_ want?"

"Language, Cee," Emmaline scolded. "We're in a church."

Cecilia muttered something and went quiet. In the doorway, Steven smoothed a hand over the front of his suit and stepped closer. "I just wanted to talk to you," he began. "You know, before..."

Emmaline frowned. He didn't sound like himself. He sounded...uncertain. The Steven Brooks she knew was always the very picture of self confidence. While he drew nearer, she decided to stay on the stool. Maybe it was silly, but it made her feel more confident this way. She was tall, but Steven was still a touch taller. If they were about to have a confrontation, she would rather stay up here for it.

"I didn't come here to argue," he said, as if he knew what she was thinking. "I just wanted to warn you."

Emmaline blinked. "About what?" she asked warily.

He took a tentative step closer. "About who you're about to marry, of course. Do you really know the first thing about him?"

Emmaline felt something deep inside her tighten unpleasantly. Low, Steven. Very low. "I know more than enough," she said coolly. "All that I need to know to be sure that I'm making the right choice--for me."

Something in Steven's eyes faltered. Whatever response he had been expecting from her...that wasn't it.

"But--"

"But nothing," Cecilia cut in waspishly. "I've already asked around about this guy, just for the heck of it; everyone who knows him says the same thing. That he's only had a handful of girlfriends during his lifetime, and he treated each one with the kind of respect most women only hear about. And in return they either left him for someone else or outright cheated on him. So if you're trying to suggest he's got a loose pelvis or something...you've got it backwards."

And then there it was again. Something dark that flickered across the young lawyer's expression, suggesting that he was about to become furious--but he checked himself. "That wasn't what I was getting at," he said, backpedaling. "I was just..."

He breathed a sigh. "I just want you to be sure that you're not making a big mistake," he said softly, reaching his hand out to her.

Emmaline didn't take it. "I appreciate your concern, but there's no mistake about it. I love this man and he loves me. There are no secrets between us; anything he hasn't told me himself, his friends have volunteered for him. If you worry he has some kind of dark history, don't. There isn't one."

Steven studied her for a long moment, his eyes slightly narrowed as they searched hers. She wasn't sure what he was looking for...but whatever he found didn't please him. His jaw tightened and he let his hand drop. "Very well. I hope for your sake that you're right."

With that, he spun on his heel and marched out of the room. Cecilia shook her head, hands on her hips, then turned around and helped Emmaline down from the stool. "Well, now that the prima donna is done making a scene...let's get you out to your groom."

* * *

Emmaline let out a slow sigh as she lazily gazed around her. The honeymoon suite was done completely in a playful tiki theme; polished bamboo furniture, softly glowing lanterns hanging from strings, bulbous candle-holders on the tables that glowed like warm firelight when they were lit, colorful mats on the floor and sheets decorated with pictures of bright flowers on the bed.

It was a wonderful atmosphere...but it was also uncomfortably hot this afternoon. So hot that the best thing for young newlyweds to do was to lie in bed naked together and sip tropical drinks from frosted glasses. With another sigh of contentment, Emmaline set her glass aside and cuddled her head against her new husband's chest. His naturally tan skin was dewy with sweat, giving his entire body a soft sheen. Drawing in a deep breath that filled her lungs with his rich scent, Emmaline kissed and nuzzled her way up to his throat. "Let's make love."

Butch let out a quiet chuckle that sent a tremor through the bed. "We just finished making love, Minnie Mouse," he reminded her, before draining the last of his drink.

"Well, I want to make love again," she insisted sweetly.

Butch chuckled again, though there was a hint of pleading in his eyes as he rested his head back on the pillows. "Emmaline Justice, you are insatiable," he declared.

"It would be your fault if I am," she declared crisply. "You're just too delicious to resist."

"Flattering, but...give me five minutes or so to finish recovering, okay?"

But in the end it didn't even take that long. It never did. And later, when they finally broke apart, spent, exhausted, and satisfied, they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms. When they woke up that evening, they got dressed and hurried out to enjoy the local nightlife. They dined on a patio lit by torches, then danced to the gentle music the nearby band was playing. Her heart swelling with love until it ached, Emmaline rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. "I didn't think I could ever feel this happy."

She could hear the smile in Butch's voice as he rested his head against hers and said, "You mean, you weren't happy before you met me?"

"I was, but...not like this. There's something so much more about this. About being so close to someone you love so much. It makes you feel more alive inside, somehow."

"Whole," Butch supplied, voice soft and almost dreamy. "Like the part of you that you didn't even know was missing is safely in place now. And then life itself feels perfect."

"Exactly," Emmaline whispered.

She was a little sad that they only had a week to bask in this feeling, but they made sure to fill the time they had on their little island paradise with everything they could. They took shopping trips, they went swimming and boating, they roamed the beaches and sand dunes. And whenever they had a moment to spare, they slipped back to their hotel to make love...or sometimes, if it was too far away to wait that long and they were alone, they enjoyed each other right where they were.

It was all so wonderful it felt like a dream...but all too soon they needed to head back to reality. And practically as soon as their plane landed, Butch ran off to check in on the team. He was captain, after all, so there were a lot of details he needed to handle...not that Emmaline understood any of them. She reluctantly returned to work, but before long the two of them settled into a pattern of one hurrying to see the other as soon as they were finished working for the day--whichever one was done first.

Emmaline would have liked to have been able to spend more time at the new arena with her husband, but the head of her department was impressed with her performance so far and had already increased her responsibility. She took this as a good sign and saw larger promotions in the future, if she worked hard enough. It was a fast-paced life most of the time, but Emmaline didn't mind. She got to unwind at home with her husband when the workday was over...which was always nice. More than nice.

One evening, while Butch was brushing his teeth at the sink in a pair of loose sleep pants, he suddenly stopped and rubbed his eyes, looking pained about something. "Em, my darling angel," he sighed, "we've only been married for two weeks. I'm not so used to it yet that I can ignore it when you strip naked around me."

Emmaline just giggled playfully and turned on the shower spray, without bothering to close the curtain all the way. "That's kind of the idea," she said slyly.

Butch grunted something and finished rinsing his mouth, then blotted his face with a towel. "I've got to be up early tomorrow," he said, voice full of lament as he turned to face the bathtub...though he didn't look too closely as she massaged a bar of soap over her skin. "So as much as it pains me to do it, I'm going to have to take a pass tonight."

Emmaline breathed a sigh and tilted her head back, letting the shower spray spill down her chest and stomach. "Fine," she said lightly, stroking a soapy hand tantalizingly close to the apex of her legs. "You run along to bed and leave me here in need."

She was only teasing, but Butch muttered something she didn't catch and kicked his pants off. "I was kidding," she said quickly, as he hopped nimbly into the tub with her. She had no idea how he managed without slipping.

"Too late," he said firmly, as he took hold of her wrists. "Try not to lose your grip, okay?"

As he spoke, he raised her arms and wrapped her fingers around the towel bar above her head. Emmaline had always thought it was strange how most tub surrounds seemed to have them, since any towel actually hung there would wind up soaked from the shower spray...but now she realized it had another use.

Before she had a chance to fully register what was going on, Butch had dropped to his knees, grabbed her legs and hooked them over his shoulders. His hands then clamped firmly onto her waist, and he held her securely as his hot mouth found her tender center. Emmaline let out a gasp and thumped her head back against the wall as he mercilessly kissed, suckled and licked all her most sensitive places, until she was practically screaming out her ecstasy.

He brought her twice before he let up and put her feet back on the ground, though her legs were so rubbery by then they barely held. While she continued to cling to the bar, Butch touched her face tenderly, his expression adoring but stern. "I'm going to bed now," he said, though she had to wonder how he was going to sleep with his obvious arousal. "No hurry finishing up here, all right?"

No hurry indeed. Her movements sluggish, Emmaline fumbled through the rest of her shower before she hobbled out and dried off, then dragged herself to bed. Butch was already snoring quietly when she flopped onto the mattress; she crawled over and curled up at his side, and sleep claimed her in a matter of moments.

When she woke up the next morning she found herself bundled snug in the blankets...and on the pillow next to hers lay a snapshot of Butch, angled so only his head was visible. He was lying on the pillow with his eyes closed, like he was asleep, and written along the bottom of the picture in red marker were the words _wish I was here!_

Emmaline chuckled softly as she propped herself up on her elbow. "Could you get any more adorable?" she wondered out loud.

She would have liked to have burrowed back under the covers, closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep as she pretended that her husband really was sleeping beside her...but she needed to get up and get ready for work, unfortunately.

On the bright side, the kind of paperwork she was currently doing was a breeze for her, and she was often finished sooner than expected, which gave her a chance to leave a little early and head over to watch Butch practice. This quickly became a habit for her over the next week or so, and most evenings she would often be sitting in the empty stands while her husband and his team discussed plays on the field below. She usually brought her notes with her, and one evening, under the light of the fading sun, she was busy jotting something down when Butch suddenly mounted the steps and sat beside her.

"You busy, Minnie Mouse?" he asked teasingly.

"Inconsequentially. You?"

"Almost finished here. And then I'm taking a certain someone out to dinner."

Grinning, he squeezed her hand and pecked her cheek, then ran back down to the field. Emmaline stood and stretched for a moment before gathering up her notebook and papers and slipping them into her purse. She decided to visit the ladies room before leaving for dinner, so she headed down to the hallway that led past the concession stands and went into one of the restrooms. Since there was no one else in the entire stadium aside from her, the team and their coach today, she left her purse on a sink as she headed to use one of the stalls.

When she came back out and started washing her hands, she accidentally bumped her purse off the edge as she reached for the soap. Clucking her tongue, she dried her hands off before bending to retrieve it--and clutched at her stomach with a gasp as pain suddenly shot through her, coupled with a severe wave of nausea. Gagging, she fumbled for the nearest stall and barely made it to the toilet before she started retching.

Coughing and gasping for breath, she straightened a few moments later and wiped her mouth, her face lined in dismay. She had only had a salad and crackers with tea for lunch--nothing that would put her even remotely in danger of having an upset stomach, so why...?

Why indeed. The answer hit her before the question finished forming. Her heart pounding in her ears so hard and loud it drowned out everything around her, Emmaline pressed a hand to her stomach again. Oh, wow.


	7. Chapter 7

Emmaline knew that Butch was awfully worried about her by the time he left the next morning. She had acted like a nervous wreck all during dinner last night, stammering and hemming and hawing while fumbling everything she put her hands on. He had no idea what to make of her bizarre behavior, but he had things to do, so he left the apartment with obvious reluctance...though he came back to hug her and tell her he loved her, then lingered at the door for a long moment before finally leaving.

She felt bad for worrying him, but she couldn't say anything yet. Not until she was sure. And after one short trip to the pharmacy and one pregnancy test taken in the bathroom...she was.

What she wasn't sure of now was how she was going to break this to Butch. She was pretty sure he would be happy--he had told her more than once that he loved kids and wanted his own someday--but...it was so soon. They hadn't been married a full month yet, so...would he really be happy about this? Or disappointed that they weren't going to have more time alone together?

Honestly, she wasn't sure of her own feelings just yet. She was still reeling from what she had just discovered, and she got up, pregnancy test still in her hand, and wandered out of the bathroom in a daze. She paced blindly around the living room for a while, trying to work out in her head what she would say when he came home. 'Hey, remember when you told me that you wanted kids? Well...surprise!'

No, that was awful. Too carefree and direct. She needed to say something that suited her. Something subtle. Something more along the line of...

"Now, I know we didn't have any plans to make the family a little larger just yet," she mumbled under her breath as she paced by the coffee table, "but sometimes, the things you weren't really expecting to come your way turn out to be the things you love the most."

No, that still wasn't right. Way too long, and it sounded more like something she'd say about the two of them, not an unexpected pregnancy. With a huff, Emmaline blew air through her hair as she repeated that word to herself: unexpected. "Really," she muttered, annoyed with herself now, "practically since the day we met, we've had unprotected sex almost non-stop, so it really shouldn't come as much of a surprise to--"

"Minnie Mouse, are you talking to yourself?"

Emmaline let out a startled yelp and spun around; Butch was standing in the living room doorway. He was leaning against the frame, his expression both puzzled and amused. Emmaline was aghast. "I--"

In her hands she was fumbling the test, trying to hide it. It ended up bouncing off her palm as she juggled it, and it landed on the carpet at her feet. Emmaline could only stare, hand pressed to her mouth in horror.

Cheeks burning, she slowly lifted her eyes and looked at Butch. His expression was mutely stunned, and his eyes were wide as he gaped.

She didn't get so much as half an instant to gather her thoughts before he descended on her. He grappled for her, kissing her hair and face as he crushed her to his chest. "Oh Em," he sighed between frantic kisses, "you have no idea how happy you've just made me."

Emmaline let out the breath she had been holding as tears flooded her eyes. "I was a little afraid you wouldn't be," she said faintly, laughing a little.

He cupped her face and brushed her tears away with his thumbs. "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, voice full of emotion.

"Well, it's awfully soon," she pointed out.

"Maybe so, but it doesn't matter. We'll work it out. This is something I've been wanting for a long time and I can't wait to share it with you."

With another happy sigh he pulled her to him, holding her close to his chest as he stroked her hair. "I love you so much," he murmured.

"I love you too," she whispered back, blinking rapidly as fresh tears sprang up. Yes, it was soon, but...she knew she would grow used to the idea, as shocked as she still was right now. This was something precious and perfect they had made together, and she knew that there was plenty of room for him--or her--in their lives.

"So," she said, lifting her head and smiling wryly at him, "have you any experience with changing diapers?"

With a laugh, Butch scooped her into his arms effortlessly and hugged her close. "No, but I can learn."

* * *

Over the next few weeks, the routine they had settled into remained relatively the same...although now whenever they had a free moment they sat down together to make plans about things like baby clothes, diapers, a crib, and which room they were going to redesign for their little addition. Butch's mood remained high--nearly ecstatic--and he promptly delivered the life-altering news to his team.

The next thing Emmaline knew, the apartment was flooded with greeting cards, balloons, and baby toys, each item expressing congratulations and best wishes. She hadn't realized that a group of big, gruff young athletes could be so sweet. In fact, the kind of support they displayed sort of made the team feel almost like an extended family after that, even if she didn't spend significant time with any of them.

Under other circumstances she would have probably seen more of Malone, but with all his time juggled between training and planning out his wedding, he only stopped by the apartment once, Sarah in tow, to deliver their gifts and congratulations.

"I have to admit," Sarah commented, as she gave Emmaline a quick hug, "I'm a little jealous of how quickly you've gotten to this point."

"But we're still going to wait a little longer before we join in the miracle of procreation," Malone said dryly. "Right?"

Sarah just smiled to herself and turned to look for an empty surface she could place the stuffed bear and flowers they had brought. Good luck, Emmaline thought wryly.

"You just tell that big goon to take good care of you," Malone told her. "Or I'll come over and personally knock his head in."

Emmaline rather doubted than anyone could succeed in doing anything of the sort to Butch...except for Malone, of course. A guy that big could probably take out just about anyone.

But he was only joking, of course, since he knew better than anyone that Butch pampered her like no one else. He had always been gentlemanly around her, but now that he knew she was expecting, he went out of his way to make sure she was comfortable. He opened every door for her, he fluffed pillows and cushions whenever she sat or lay down, he made her breakfast in bed and basically waited on her hand and foot every chance he got. It was endearing and touching, but at the same time a little strange...after four years of college, Emmaline was used to doing things for herself.

Still, she wasn't about to complain, since she suspected that once she was really feeling the stress of the weight gain, the morning sickness and the erratic moods, she was going to appreciate a little pampering.

And speaking of weight...according to her mother--who called her frequently from overseas to give her advice, tips, and to just gush over being a grandmother--most women didn't really start to show during their first pregnancy until they were in their fourth or fifth month. "The doctor says you're only about three months along, right? So it'll be a little while more before you need to break out the baggy tops and jeans with elastic waistbands."

Emmaline wrinkled her nose as she looked down at herself. "If you say so, Mom."

"You ever have any questions, you call me day or night, got it?"

Emmaline promised that she would before she said goodbye and hung up, then went over to the mirror tacked to the wall by the bedroom closest and studied herself closely. Only three months, but she was sure that she was rapidly putting on weight. She had always been slender--skinny, some might argue--since she didn't eat fatty foods and stayed active. Even though her job had her sitting down a lot, she countered it by walking instead of driving when she could, and she and Butch took walks through their favorite park--which had kind of become their special place ever since he proposed there--every weekend. She stuck faithfully to this routine, knowing it was good to stay active right now while avoiding anything too strenuous, but it didn't seem to help much. Within a week of learning the news, her petite waistline had thickened considerably, forcing her to go out and buy new skirts for work.

At three months, her growing belly was more than a little noticeable, and the rest of her looked thicker too. The wrists of her blouses felt too snug, and her pumps hurt her feet, so she had started wearing canvas shoes and soft slippers when she wasn't at work, even when she went out.

"Why the long face, Minnie Mouse?" asked Butch as he suddenly strolled into the bedroom.

"Why?" Emmaline echoed grouchily, still staring at the mirror. "Because if I keep gaining weight this fast, I'm going to tip the scales at a good three hundred pounds before this pregnancy is over."

Butch chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head as he gazed at their reflections together. "You're just as beautiful as ever," he said firmly. "And you're not that heavy. Adorably plump, maybe..."

"Yeah, well, give it another few weeks."

He smiled and kissed her again. "Just the same, there's a strawberry shortcake waiting for you in the kitchen."

That sounded nice, but she was just sitting down at the kitchen table with a fresh slice when she suddenly felt like eating cornbread and chili. "Is it normal to want food that I never normally eat--or never even tasted before?" she asked wearily.

"Perfectly normal," Butch assured her with a loving smile. "Anything you want, you just let me know and I'll get it for you, even if I have to run clear to Mexico for it."

Emmaline propped her head in her hands with a groan. "Great--now I want tacos and burritos."

If the cravings--which popped up and changed at the drop of a hat--weren't bad enough, her moods were completely out of wack. One moment she would feel so mad about nothing at all she wanted to throw something, and the next moment she might be ready to start sobbing. She spilled her coffee at work one morning and practically broke down right there.

"Do all mothers go through this?" Emmaline wondered one afternoon in October, as Butch pulled his car into the hospital parking lot. "It's amazing we women manage to stay sane."

"It'll pass," Butch said confidently. "Just think; only five months left to go. And then we can be driven insane together by three AM feedings and the like."

Emmaline snorted, but she smiled. She had become pregnant late in June, so her due date was scheduled for sometime early in March. They were heading in today for an ultrasound--not because the doctors suspected any problems, but because they were first-time parents...and they were both feeling a little paranoid.

"No harm in being safe," the technician told them kindly, before instructing Emmaline to lie back on the padded table.

"Is it normal to be this round so soon?" Emmaline wondered as a slightly chilly-feeling gel was rubbed on her rapidly-growing belly.

She had asked everyone who had either experienced or knew anything about pregnancy, and everyone kept telling her that weight gain varied drastically from person and pregnancy--the same woman could experience completely different weight gain and food cravings each time she was expecting. Although her doctor _had_ commented that her belly seemed to be growing particularly quickly and advised her to watch what she ate--because she was only eating for two, not twenty. Emmaline had replied firmly that she was only eating about a half portion more at mealtimes, and she only snacked a few times during the day. Her cravings were odd at times, but it wasn't like she was constantly hungry.

Predictably, the technician said, "It all depends on the individual."

With a smile, she pressed the probe to Emmaline's middle; Butch took hold of his wife's hand as he watched...while Emmaline tried not to squirm. "That kind of tickles," she said, nose wrinkled.

It wasn't uncomfortable, and she soon grew used to it as the technician continued to run the probe over her round midsection. Her eyes were on the monitor next to the bed, watching the distorted image on the screen. Emmaline watched with her, her head on the pillow, while Butch leaned forward a little, his hair brushing her cheek. She was pretty sure he couldn't comprehend the grainy picture any more than she could...but that didn't mean the sight was any less fascinating.

"Have you picked out any names yet?" the technician wondered.

"A few," said Emmaline. "Nothing definite yet."

Butch was doing the hippie thing; he had a few possibles, but he didn't want to make a decision until he saw their baby with his own eyes. It was important, he claimed, to make sure they picked a name that fit the kind of person their child would be. Emmaline didn't think a name or its meaning was as important as a child's upbringing. All she wanted was a nice, normal name that wasn't too common or too over-the-top.

Another question people asked her a lot was if she wanted a boy or a girl. She hadn't been expecting to be a mother this soon in life in the first place, so she really didn't have a preference. As long as her baby was healthy, she was happy. And speaking of happy...

Even though she didn't really understand what she was seeing on the screen, knowing that she was looking at her baby made her heart fill with warmth. Underneath the mood swings and the grumpiness she felt over being so pudgy, she loved this tiny person growing inside her. It was kind of weird to think about it, loving someone she had never met, but she did.

Her affection must have shown on her face, because Butch suddenly leaned closer and kissed her cheek, then rested his head against hers. The technician suddenly chuckled. "Well, that explains it."

Emmaline tore her eyes from the screen and looked at her. "Explains what? Is everything all right?"

"Perfect, as far as I can see. Look here."

She leaned over a little and pointed at the screen with her free hand. Inside her, Emmaline felt her baby shifting around; the gray-blue shape on the screen twitched. It was only a little twitch, but it made her heart give an excited thump. Butch held her hand tighter; she realized that she was squeezing. "See these two kind of round shapes here?" she asked, tracing an outline with her finger.

Emmaline could, now that it had been pointed out to her. "Is that his head?" she wondered.

"And why does it look like he has two?" Butch added.

This comment made the technician chuckle again. "Because he's got company in there."

Emmaline felt her heart skip a beat. Make that a dozen beats. "What?"

Butch was wrapping his arms around her, tugging her to him while her mind grappled with this revelation. That explained a few things all right.

Her husband continued to cling to her, kissing her occasionally and murmuring loving words in her ear, while the technician softly prodded at her belly. The twin shapes on the monitor twitched again in response, clearly moving separately from each other. The more she stared, the more Emmaline thought she understood the image she was seeing. It looked like her two babies were tangled together like a pretzel.

Two babies. She'd barely gotten used to the thought of having one in their lives, but...as she gazed at the grainy reflection of what was inside her, she felt that warmth in her heart again, growing until it ached a little. It was unexpected, but their lives could easily stretch to hold two instead of just one. There was plenty of room...and not just in their home.

"Nice job, Mister Justice," she said wryly.

Butch laughed a little and hugged her tighter. "Well, thank you, Mrs. Justice." He kissed her again before lying his head on her shoulder. "You make me so happy, Em."

Emmaline wrapped her arms around him as best she could, what with her shirt still rolled up and her belly still sticky. "This probably goes without saying, but...you make me happy, too. I think you're the best thing that's ever come into my life."

And in just a few short months, their lives were going to be even happier and fuller. She clung to her husband for a long moment...until she remembered that they weren't alone in the room. Feeling a little embarrassed, she let go and laid back again. "Sorry," she mumbled.

The technician was watching them, chin propped on her palm and the probe waiting to finish its job in her other hand. She bore a look of amusement. "Don't worry, that happens a lot in here."

She returned the probe to her stomach, and Emmaline watched the screen again, her mind quietly going over all the things this was going to change. They were going to need double of just about everything--and then there was the matter of genders. They had both decided that they wanted to be surprised, and so far they'd kept everything they had bought acceptably neutral, but...she had to wonder now. Was she having two girls? Two boys? One of each?

She couldn't wait to find out.


	8. Chapter 8

Shortly after their visit to the hospital, and after showing off grainy pictures of their twin treasures to just about everyone they knew, Emmaline went with Butch to attend Malone and Sarah's wedding. Like Malone had been for him, Butch was part of the wedding party as Malone's best man. Even though they considered each other friends at this point, Sarah hadn't asked Emmaline to be one of her bridesmaids, since the wedding party had been picked out and filled up nicely many months ago...for which Emmaline was glad. She liked Sarah, but she did _not_ like the skin-tight bodices and bare shoulders the bridesmaids were displaying in their gowns. 

She didn't feel comfortable with showing off either her pudgy legs or arms, and so she sat out on the lawn near the vineyard with the other guests in a loose and baggy pantsuit. Throughout the ceremony, she tried hard not to fidget too much; her babies had been kicking frequently lately, and today was no exception. Her bladder, which already felt like it had shrunk to the size of a pea thanks to all the extra weight, was not pleased.

As soon as the ceremony ended, she scurried off to the nearest bathroom, then headed straight to the buffet table. Butch soon found her; he rested his hands on her shoulders with a smile and kissed the top of her head. "I'm surprised Cecilia didn't want to come," he commented. "I know she loves getting free drinks."

This was true. Ever since she turned twenty-one, Cecilia had acquired a taste for rather strong forms of drinks...and Emmaline kind of suspected she had been secretly honing this skill for a while now. She, on the other hand, had only just started enjoying things like fine wines and champagnes, before she found out she was pregnant. 

"I invited her, but she said she had things to do," Emmaline commented, as she piled her plate with salad, pudding, and cottage cheese.

She hadn't said what things, specifically. In fact, Emmaline hadn't seen much of her over the last few weeks. Granted, she was awfully busy herself, but it seemed like no matter what was going on, Cecilia always found time to call. Lately she hadn't, and when Emmaline tried calling her, she only spoke for a minute or so before saying she had to go.

"Maybe she has a boyfriend and she doesn't want me to know about it," she joked. "Ooh--grab me one of those, please."

Smirking, Butch finished mounding scallops and steaming rotelle pasta on his plate before passing her a chicken wing.

"And some of that marshmallow fruit salad," she added.

"Yes, m'lady. Would having a real boyfriend be strange for her?"

"Very. It wasn't so bad in high school, but when we hit college, her motto became 'do 'em and dump 'em.' Her words, not mine."

Butch 'tsked' and slid an arm around her waist as they headed to sit down. "Good thing she didn't end up being a bad influence on you."

"A pity I didn't end up being a good influence on her," Emmaline lamented.

After a lengthy dinner and many a toast, Malone and Sarah left for their honeymoon, and she and Butch went to sleep at a nearby hotel for the night before driving home. It was the weekend, so the first thing she did after stepping through the front door was toss aside her unflattering pantsuit and slip on one of Butch's shirts...though they didn't hang down on her as far as they used to.

"Say what you will," Butch told her as she sat down at the kitchen table, "I still think you're adorable when you're plump."

"You just say that so I won't kick you out of bed. Do we have any pretzels?"

Smiling and shaking his head, Butch found her a bag, then started frying bacon on the stove. "Is there anything we're forgetting?" he said, tone conversational as he turned the sizzling meat with a pair of tongs.

Emmaline wrinkled her nose; the kitchen was rapidly starting to smell like smoking bacon fat. "Let's see...we have two high chairs, an extra-big playpen, two cribs..."

They planned to keep both babies in one crib until they grew too big to share. They were used to living in extremely close quarters, so it struck Emmaline as a little mean to separate them immediately after birth.

"A double-stroller, lots of bibs, plenty of baby clothes...and loads and loads of toys."

"I picked up a crib mobile the other day," Butch commented, sounding cheerful.

"Very good. Is there any V-8 left?"

"A pregnancy staple," said Butch, pulling a can out of the fridge.

Emmaline took sips of the thick juice between nibbles of pretzel as she thought. They had cleared out the room next to their bedroom and painted the walls a neutral eggshell color, and furnished with pieces made from cedar wood. She knew that a lot of people like to decorate a baby's room with white, but that always seemed too dainty to her once the child was past infancy. They were going to use this room for a good number of years; pale woods were both gender and age neutral.

There was nothing wrong with being a little dainty for now, though, and there was a delicate white blanket lining the crib, plus gauzy curtains hanging from the window. Emmaline thought the whole room looked beautiful...and she couldn't wait to introduce its future occupants to it.

"I'm pretty sure we have everything covered," she noted, pleased.

Butch suddenly turned from the stove and rummaged in a cabinet for a moment. "I picked these up, too," he said, grinning.

In his hands were a pair of sippy cups...with footballs on them. "Adorable. Have we any pickles?"

"Pickles," Butch repeated, setting the cups down and returning to the fridge.

"And sour cream," she added.

Butch brought everything over obediently, then watched, a faint look of disbelief on his face, as she alternately dipped pretzels and pickles into the sour cream between sips of V-8. He cleared his throat. "Bacon?"

"No, thank you. The smell of certain meats cooking kind of turns my stomach right now."

"Oh--sorry." Butch hastily shut the stove off and left the kitchen...though Emmaline suspected that his abrupt exit had little to do with his concern for her. Smirking, she dunked another pickle into the sour cream and crunched it noisily. Yum.

Later that morning she tugged a loose skirt with an elastic waistband on under the shirt and joined Butch in the living room, curling up on the couch next to him and cuddling her head on his shoulder. Smiling, Butch set down the baby magazine he'd been reading and put his arm around her. He kissed her cheek and rested his head on her hair. "You smell like pickles."

She pinched him; he snickered and slipped his arms around her, placing his hands on her middle, which she would swear looked even rounder than it did yesterday. Beneath her husband's hands came a flutter of movement...followed by something a little larger than a flutter. Someone in there was quite the kicker.

"I can't wait until I'm really holding them," Butch murmured.

Emmaline's heart gave a happy little thump at the thought. "Me neither."

"And speaking of which; they didn't want to spread it around during the wedding, but...Sarah's expecting, too."

"Oh?" She sure hadn't looked it, in that slinky little gown she had worn yesterday. "When is she due?"

"Sometime in May. Plenty close enough for these three to be playmates," he added with a grin. "Or maybe they'll get lucky and have twins, too."

Emmaline snorted. "With that skimpy waistline? I doubt it."

She chewed her lip for a moment as a different thought suddenly popped into her mind. "I've got a taste for some German chocolate."

Butch made a sound in his throat. "You can't have finished digesting all that--stuff--you just ate, but now you want chocolate?"

Emmaline smiled sweetly at him. "A cake, if you please. It's not that far a drive to the bakery."

Grunting, Butch pulled his arms away and got up from the couch, grabbing his keys on his way out of the room. "I think I know now how you feel in the morning."

"Well, they do say that pregnancy is a great way for couples to grow closer together."

* * *

Before Emmaline knew it, December had rolled around. Her normal workload had been lightened at the office, and she was allowed to bring her paperwork home a lot, enabling her to relax in her living room instead of her stiff desk chair. Butch had treated her to an early Christmas present this year; an expensive lined wool cape that buttoned down the front and hung to her knees, with a matching pair of plush boots. The set was cream-colored and classically elegant, and she had to admit she felt a little regal when she wore it out--like chubby royalty, she cracked once.

One particularly chilly afternoon, she followed Butch out in her cape ensemble, along with a fuzzy white knit hat and matching gloves. She was in good spirits lately; she didn't seem to be gaining any more weight except around the middle, her morning sickness had passed, and her warm pregnancy glow had finally kicked in. Despite it being in the middle of winter, her skin was rosy from head to toe.

She felt more energetic these days, too, so she was more than up to trudging through the snow that day as Butch took her to a park--not their park, but a smaller one in another part of town, with big hills and a skating pond in the middle. It all had a cozy, rustic feeling to it, with rental shacks peddling skates and sleds and small vendors selling hot chocolate, each building designed to look like a log cabin.

There were families sledding down the hills and kids having snowball fights, and Emmaline felt a little sad that she couldn't join in any of the fun. Instead, she settled down on a wooden bench next to the pond with a cup of hot chocolate while Butch skated out onto the ice to play hockey with some of his teammates. It just figured that her husband excelled at even ice skating. That man seemed to be capable of virtually anything athletic--a fact that wasn't escaping the notice of the powers that be in sports. The new owner of the team had made sure Butch's contract included both a hefty salary and lucrative endorsement deals...which he turned right around and used to spoil his wife and unborn children.

Her heart brimming with love, Emmaline watched as her husband cut effortlessly across the ice. "Where's Malone?" one of the others asked.

"Busy hovering around Sarah," Butch responded, before swiping away the puck. He then streaked across the ice and scored a goal, while still having time to send an 'I know the feeling' look Emmaline's way.

Inside her, one of the twins was kicking up a storm. "I think somebody's jealous," she commented, wincing.

"See? We have a genuine punter on the way," Butch stated proudly.

And he skated right off the ice, trotted through the snow up to the bench, where he proceeded to drop to his knees and press a loving kiss to her bulging middle before scurrying back to the game. Emmaline felt her cheeks warm--not that anyone would notice, since the cold had already turned them bright red.

"Would you cut it out?" someone sighed. "You're making the rest of us guys look bad."

Butch just laughed and played on until the opposing team had suffered a humiliating defeat. "That was fun," Butch said cheerfully as he drove home later.

"I had fun, too," Emmaline said with a smile. "Though I'm starting to think this kid is trying to punt his way clear out of me."

Butch looked sympathetic, though he smiled as he reached over and rested a hand on her middle. "Take it easy in there, now," he told the persistent movement he felt.

It was impossible to tell which twin was more active, but Emmaline would definitely say that one of them moved around much more gently. Sometimes all the wiggling would wake her up at night...and sometimes she lay awake on her own, quietly cupping her belly as she pictured what it would be like to finally hold her babies in her arms.

That night she slept peacefully, and the next morning she felt cheerful as she picked out a warm, loose-fitting peasant blouse and a pleated skirt to wear to work. When she arrived at the office, she shook the snow off her soft suede boots before heading over to her desk. As she sifted through a pile of papers, she found herself glancing around the room, looking for some sign of Cecilia, but she was nowhere in sight. For weeks now she had only caught glimpses of her from time to time, and they rarely spoke anymore.

Whatever was going on, it had the office rumor-mill churning. Cecilia's reputation preceded her, so there was plenty of talk about her having an affair with the department manager, or that she had become the mistress of one of the company heads. Emmaline brushed the stories aside while quietly worrying about what was really going on...and then that day someone said something that turned her blood cold.

"Have you talked to Cecilia recently?" one of the girls who worked in the file room asked in a low voice, while acting like she was just casually passing by.

Emmaline shook her head. "Not much more than a word or two. Honestly, I'm kind of worried."

"I don't know if it's true," the girl went on, voice dropping even lower, "but I heard Debbie from down in the mail-room say that she saw her talking to her boss. They were saying something about bereavement pay."

Emmaline's hands stilled on the stack of papers in front of her. Her fingertips suddenly felt like ice. "What?"

But the girl didn't know any more, and she hurried back to work, while Emmaline shoved a folder aside and reached for her phone. She waited almost ten full rings before Cecilia picked up her home phone. "Yes?" a voice she barely recognized greeted absently.

"It's me," Emmaline said quietly.

Her worry must have been plain in her voice, because Cecilia responded with a long silence, then said, "Who told?"

"Office gossip. Why didn't you say something?"

But even as she asked, Emmaline knew. Her longtime friend was trying to spare her from stress, even at her own expense.

"I knew you'd be upset," Cecilia said in a quiet, tired voice. She didn't sound like herself at all. Her usual vitality was gone.

Emmaline swallowed nervously. "Who was it? How long ago did it happen?"

Cecilia had been avoiding her for months now, so it must have been a while ago.

"My parents," Cecilia said dully. "Both of them. There was an accident back in September and...I don't want to talk about it."

Emmaline rested her forehead on her hand as her head swam; her hands felt cold again. The reality of it left her shaken; in a lot of ways, Cecilia's mother had been like a second parent to her back when she was growing up. Mothers of best friends usually were. "I'm so sorry, Cee," she whispered.

Cecilia suddenly let out a strange laugh."Don't feel bad for me--I'm a big girl. Feel bad for poor Heather who's stuck with me as a lousy substitute mom."

A lump rose painfully into her throat. "If you need me for anything, anything at all, I'm here for you. Call me anytime, okay?"

Cecilia mumbled a thanks, then said, "I have to go, okay? The big boss doesn't expect me to come to the office much as I sort all this out, but he _does_ expect me to get all this paperwork done."

"All right. We'll talk again soon."

Cecilia mumbled a goodbye and hung up. Emmaline went back to work, but she had trouble concentrating that day. She could only begin to imagine what Cecilia was going through right now. She had still been young when she lost her father and barely remembered him, and her mother was as lively as ever. She couldn't picture what it was like to have two people you were so close to taken away all at once like that.

And now she had to raise Heather to boot? Cecilia wasn't like her--shocked but accepting of the fact that she was a mother so soon after college. Cecilia had always been a wild, carefree thing, shirking anything that required too much responsibility. Having this happen in what she considered to be her most free and happy time of life--no more studying, a place all her own--had to be beyond shocking and painful for her.

Emmaline's heart ached for her, and she quietly vowed to do whatever she could to help. When she went home later, the first thing she did was grab the nearest phone and dial up her mother long distance. She tried not to, but before long she was sniffling like a child, while her mother worried that something was wrong.

"Nothing," she said, sniffling again. Cecilia was a private person and wouldn't appreciate her gossiping to another continent. She'd let the news out when she was ready. "Just hormones."

She swallowed thickly. "I just wanted to call and tell you that I love you. You've been the best mom."

"Well, thank you," said her mother, sounding surprised, flattered...and getting close to sniffles herself. "You will be too, you know."

Smiling through her tears, Emmaline rested a hand on her round middle. "I sure hope so."


	9. Chapter 9

January proved to be a little lonely for Emmaline, since Butch had games to play but she wasn't up to traveling with him right now. Butch called her every chance he got, and he came home whenever he was able. She consoled herself with the fact that the season would be over before the babies were born, but many an afternoon she found herself longing for a little companionship. She didn't want to pester Cecilia though, since she was still reeling from the loss of her parents and having her entire life upended. The last time they spoke, she still sounded upset, but she was facing her new responsibilities with a calm sort of focus. "I'm looking into setting up Heather in a library program they'll be holding this summer," she reported one afternoon. "A few mornings a week, covering the basics: shapes, colors, sights, sounds, reading-prep. It's kind of like preschool, except it isn't."

Emmaline wished them both luck and promised to help in any way she could...even though sending one's child to school wasn't something she had experienced for herself yet.

Even on days she stayed home alone, she kept busy. There wasn't anything left to do with the twins' room, so in her spare time she found herself enjoying a pastime she had missed during her years at college: gardening. There wasn't anywhere for her to actually plant something in the ground, so she started buying small pots and filling them with things like herbs and small vegetables--things that wouldn't grow very big. In the spring, she planned to start building window boxes, but in the meantime she placed the growing seedlings on a wire shelf unit near one of the windows, making sure they got plenty of light.

One day when Butch was home he took a look at her efforts and commented casually that they could use some real dirt to grow in. It was a subtle hint...but it was still a hint. Emmaline was happy and comfortable here in the apartment for now, but she had no objection whatsoever to getting a house someday--maybe when the twins were a year old or so.

She spent the remainder of January and the first few weeks of February curled up on the living room couch most of the time, quietly reading baby books and knitting stocking caps and baby sweaters. It was unpleasantly cold right now, and she avoided going out except for work and shopping for essentials. 

It was a routine that became much more pleasant once Butch was home again, and on till the final week in February she fell asleep on the couch with him almost every night, wrapped snugly in the safety of his arms. Not that she needed to wait for nightfall to go to sleep these days. She was getting pretty late in her pregnancy, and it seemed like lately all she needed to do was sit in one spot for more than a few minutes and she would end up dozing off.

When she was awake she had very little energy, and she had to take breaks and sit down a lot...which inevitably led to more napping. With her due date fast approaching, she had already been let off work and wouldn't have to go back for a couple of months, and Butch coaxed her to take it easy at home while he hovered around her, waiting on her hand and foot more than ever. 

As she had suspected she might be, at this point she was grateful that he was so willing and helpful. Between the fatigue and her belly, which was so big now she could barely operate around it for most things, she didn't get up to do something if she could help it. "I bet you'll be glad once these two are born," she noted wryly after Butch had brought her the glass of grape juice she had just asked him to fetch.

"Of course I will be," he said, just as wryly. "Because then I'll have three of you to wait on and love."

He handed her the glass, kissed her cheek, then relaxed on the nearby easy chair with a sports magazine. Emmaline settled further into the couch and took sips of her tart drink between massaging her belly. She had followed the advice she had read about rubbing oil on her skin, and while she was confident that she had warded off any permanent affects of stretch marks...there was little she could do about the discomfort she was in.

"I think our little punter is getting anxious to come out and play," she noted, with a pained wince.

Butch chuckled softly and reached over to rest his hand over hers for a moment before getting up. Emmaline settled back into the couch and tugged at her skirt, which she had pulled on over a pair of thick cotton leggings. She was warm, but she felt a little funny; for the last few days she had taken to wearing a special pair of absorbent underwear...almost like what somebody wore when they didn't trust their bladder. She wasn't due for another week or so, but she wanted to make sure she was prepared, just in case.

And it was a good thing, too, because it was that very afternoon when her water broke.

She was in the kitchen, reaching up to water the row of tiny pots she had lined up on the sill of the window above the sink, when Butch came and leaned against the doorframe. "By the way, where did you put all the pictures I sent you?"

Frowning in puzzlement, Emmaline turned around, watering can still in her hand. "Pictures?"

"Yeah, you know, all the snapshots I took of the team. I thought maybe we could make a collage or something."

Emmaline frowned harder, brow furrowed. "Sweetie, I never got any pictures."

Butch frowned in return. "Didn't you? They were in all the letters I sent."

Emmaline felt more confused than ever. "I never got any letters. I didn't think you'd need to send any--you called me at least once a day."

"Yeah, but..."

Still frowning, he gave his head a shake and went to open the fridge. "Did you check the mailbox while I was away?"

"Every day. I never know when I'll be sent something from work or my mother, so I never miss checking it."

Shrugging, Butch took out a can of soda and popped it open. "Huh. Guess I'll have to call the post office later. Dozens of letters don't just disappear."

Mumbling to himself, he left the kitchen. Still feeling perplexed, Emmaline turned back to her plants, reaching up to water the one on the end--and then she felt something strange. It wasn't anything big, or anything really painful. It was like a tiny tugging sensation somewhere deep inside her, a feeling that came and went so quickly she couldn't be sure what exactly she had felt, or if it had been anything at all.

And then she felt...wet. The absorbent underwear did its job, but even then she felt parts of her leggings become saturated. For the briefest of seconds she felt confused, glancing down at the watering can to see if it had sprung a leak...but then it hit her.

For an instant she felt a surge of panic--but she quickly squashed it. She had learned from all the reading she had done that labor rarely went like they made it seem on TV and in movies. Generally speaking, it was a long time after a woman's water first broke to when the baby was finally born--like her mother, who made sure to let her know that she had labored with her for nearly fourteen hours.

She had also read that, generally, real pain didn't start right away either. Some doctors even discouraged most women from coming to the hospital immediately, since all they would do was lie around and wait. But this was her first pregnancy and she wanted to make sure everything was proceeding normally so, after taking a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up, she went to find Butch.

He was back in the living room, reading his magazine again; she came up behind him and rested her hands on the back of the chair. "Honey?" she said sweetly. "Will you drive me to the hospital?"

Butch gave her a blank look for a moment--and then he practically tripped himself as he bolted up, tearing his magazine in the process. "Now?" he asked weakly.

She nodded; he bolted to grab his keys. "Take your time," she called, as she heard him fumble around in the front closet for his jacket, "I haven't even had my first contraction yet."

Right after she spoke, she felt a pain. It wasn't big, and it passed quickly, and even though she knew they would inevitably get worse, Emmaline felt calm beneath the excited pounding of her heart. I can do this, she thought confidently.

While Butch ran out to warm the car, she went to the bedroom and changed into fresh underwear and leggings. She didn't bother changing anything else, since she would be put into a hospital gown once they reached the hospital. She wiggled into her suede boots, put on her coat and waited by the door with her purse.

"Ready," she said when Butch came back.

After locking up the apartment, Butch turned and--to her blushing surprise--picked her up and started carrying her. "I can walk," she faltered. "It doesn't hurt much yet."

"Hey, you're the one doing all the work here," he pointed out. "Toting you around is the least I can do."

Emmaline ducked her head in embarrassment as they passed one of their neighbors in the hall, who watched them go by with obvious amusement...but her heart swelled with warmth and love just the same. "You better watch it," she warned, as she cuddled her head on his shoulder. "Or else I'm going to fall in love with you all over again."

* * *

After arriving at the hospital and being ushered into a bed in the delivery wing, the doctor looked her over and said that everything appeared to be progressing normally. He also said that she had hours to wait, and so Emmaline waited, lying quiet and still while the waves of pain came and went. Around her, the sounds of other women in labor who weren't so quiet also came and went, along with the cries of newborns. The thought of her own children being born before much longer set her heart thumping again.

A nurse asked her once if she wanted anything for the pain, but so far it hadn't been that bad. Not anything she couldn't handle, and so she politely declined. Though the pain steadily grew more frequent and more intense, she continued to lie quietly, while Butch held her hand and stroked her hair, whispering encouraging words to her whenever another contraction hit.

Several hours went by like that, and when she wasn't wincing in pain, Butch was entertaining her with playful anecdotes of his team. A nurse came by every once in a while to check on her, and Emmaline grew so used to having her middle prodded and having her hospital gown peeked under, it took her completely by surprise when she said, "It's about time."

"So soon?"

She had only been here about five hours or so. Her mother would be jealous.

The pain had reached a sharp peak, and even though she was red-faced and gasping, she was pleased that she was still handling it so well. And then the doctor told her to push.

The first thought that shot into her mind was 'Oh god, this is _impossible_ '. The pain searing through her left her light-headed and sent spots of light dancing across her vision while tears streamed down her sweaty face. The pressure she felt was indescribable, and as it continued to only get worse she wanted to ask 'Is this normal?' but she couldn't get her breath enough to speak.

Beside her, Butch was clinging to her hands, his head leaning close to hers. "You can do it," he whispered in her ear. "I know you can."

Emmaline sure hoped he was right. She sucked in as big of a breath as she could and pushed again, trying to wrap up the pain and tuck it away in another part of her mind where she couldn't feel it as much, then sucked in another breath and pushed again. And then all at once everything seemed to stop. The pain and pressure receded drastically and she felt all the tension inside her ease away; she sank back against the pillows like a balloon deflating.

At that same instant there was a shrill cry. It was piercing, but the sound of it made her heart lift like it never had before. Butch let go of her hands and pulled away from her, while she struggled to wipe her damp face and sit up. The nurse hurried over and blotted her face with a cloth, at the same time quietly coaxing her to stay lying still.

A moment later Butch returned to her side. The shrill crying had stopped, but the sound of unhappy fussing continued. Cradled delicately in his arms was a fidgeting bundle wrapped in a white blanket. Butch's eyes were moist as he brought his arms close to his wife, displaying their precious contents for her to see. "It's a girl."

She was awfully plump, and nearly bald under the fine layer of black baby fuzz on her crown. Beneath the steady tears in the large eyes gazing up at her, Emmaline could see pools of deep blue-green. In a few weeks, she imagined those eyes would be as green as her father's.

She was fussy and damp and red-skinned, but Emmaline thought she was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and tears of joy sprang to her eyes as she touched a trembling hand to her soft cheek. She wanted to hold her, but her arms still felt numb and rubbery and she didn't think it was a good idea just yet. Butch understood without being told and stayed sitting on the edge of the bed beside her for the next few minutes, the three of them existing in their own little world for that short span of time.

Then Emmaline felt a sharp pain that made her wince, along with a rapidly growing pressure. "I think it's about time again," she said weakly. "It's time again, right?"

The doctor, who had been monitoring the status of her other baby, gave a nod of his head. "It's time. You can start pushing now."

Again? she thought weakly, but she braced herself, took another huge breath and pushed with all her might. It felt like less than an instant later that the pain receded again, and in a moment a quiet crying joined the sounds her fussy daughter was making. "That's it?"

Butch let out a quiet laugh. "Maybe he'll be a punter _and_ an Olympic runner," he joked.

Only when Emmaline saw the size of her daughter's twin, she had her doubts about which one had been the insistent kicker. Butch clucked his tongue. "Looks like someone was hogging the placenta."

Emmaline laughed weakly. "Butch, that's terrible."

But she had to admit, her tiny son was significantly smaller than her plump daughter. She didn't care; he was every bit as beautiful, and when the nurse passed him to her she felt strong enough now to hold him. She cuddled him close and peppered his rosy face with kisses. Unlike his twin, he stopped fussing moments after birth, making quiet sounds as he blinked his large eyes at her.

His smile adoring, Butch leaned over and placed their daughter in her arms, then kissed his wife's cheek. "Good job, Minnie Mouse," he whispered.

Emmaline felt like a blanket of sleep was easing over her as she crooked an infant in each arm, but she couldn't stop smiling. Her heart felt like it was ready to burst, she was so happy. Across the room, one of the nurses discreetly snapped a photo, and then the doctor advised that Emmaline get some rest while her babies were taken to be cleaned up and examined for any health problems.

As they were placed in a plastic bassinet and wheeled away, Butch tugged the blanket up over his wife and kissed her again. "Thank you," he said softly.

"Thank _you_ ," Emmaline returned drowsily.

Still smiling, she closed her eyes and drifted off into a blissful sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

"So, what names have you picked out?" the nurse wondered after Emmaline woke up from her nap.

Emmaline felt a little silly that they still hadn't picked anything definite yet; they needed to make up their minds if the hospital was going to print out the birth certificate. "We could call this one Princess Shrieks-a-lot," Butch suggested as he paced by the window, fussy baby daughter in his arms.

Emmaline shot him a look, while the nurse muffled a snicker and scurried out of the room. "She won't always be fussy," Emmaline said firmly.

As least, she sure hoped not. In her arms, her tiny son slept quietly, his delicate fist clenching and unclenching around a lock of her hair. "You pushed your poor little brother around while you were in there, didn't you," Butch accused, though his tone was adoring as he kissed and cuddled the squirmy bundle in his arms. "Look at him, he's just skin and bones."

Emmaline couldn't really argue, but she was confident that her son would fill out before long. He already showed signs of having a heartier appetite than his sister, who had barely stopped crying long enough to have her first meal. 

"I think I like that," Butch suddenly stated.

Emmaline looked up from their son. "Like what?" she wondered.

"Bones. It suits him."

Emmaline stared at him, scarcely able to believe he was serious. "He won't always be bony," she pointed out logically. "He'll probably grow up to be as beefy as you someday."

"Or maybe he'll stay skeletal," Butch argued mildly. "Nope, my mind's made up. My son is a 'Bones.'"

So much for picking a name that isn't too over-the-top, Emmaline thought dryly. "Fine," she sighed. "If it's not too normal for you, I'd like to call our daughter Derikka."

It was Butch's turn to stare, a funny look on his face. "What kind of name is that for such a sweet--if loud--little princess?"

"It's not strange," Emmaline said firmly. "Uncommon maybe, but it's simply a feminine variation of Derick."

Something in her husband's expression softened. "And Derick was your father's name," he said knowingly.

Smiling now, he kissed their daughter again. "Okay; Bones and Derikka it is. You like?"

Derikka responded by kicking her feet and letting out an unhappy wail. "I'll take that as a yes."

Emmaline clucked her tongue and got out of bed, crossing the room to lay her sleeping son in the bassinet. Butch continued to rock and pace, trying to coax their unhappy daughter to calm down. "Don't be so gloomy, Dare-bear," he cooed, teasing her with a tiny stuffed bunny. Derikka squirmed away from the plush toy and cried harder.

Emmaline tried a pacifier--they worked for Bones--but her daughter wanted nothing to do with it. The nurse strolled back into the room, bringing with her a stack of fresh blankets and a bag of diapers. "Is she fussing again?" she asked.

"Is she ever _not_ fussing?" Butch wondered, wincing as the shrill cries grew to an even higher pitch.

The nurse looked smug about something as she watched them for a moment. "Here: let me show you a little trick I learned when they were out in the nursery."

She gently took the squirming infant from her father, crossed the room and placed her in the bassinet. Seconds later, the crying stopped. "What did you do?" Butch asked, looking impressed.

"Take a look," the nurse instructed before leaving the room with a smile.

Both parents went over and peered into the bassinet; Derikka was cuddled against her sleeping twin, her fist wrapped tightly around one of his. She had her eyes closed and looked like she was already dozing off. Butch smiled softly and smoothed a gentle hand over her downy forehead. "I guess after almost nine months of living in such close proximity, a little separation anxiety is understandable," he noted.

Her heart flooding with love, Emmaline reached down and drifted a hand over each baby's head. Aside from the difference in weight, the two were virtually identical in appearance. "No doubt about it," she said softly. "These two are quite a pair."

* * *

The doctor had them stay at the hospital for another day before clearing them to go home. Back in their apartment, Butch did so much of the work for the first few days, Emmaline wound up doing little other than sleep and breastfeed. When Butch wasn't at home waiting on all three of them, he was off with one of his teammates and flashing pictures to everyone he bumped into--whether they wanted to look or not.

A lot of their friends came by the apartment, too, including Malone and Sarah, who dropped by briefly to deliver more gifts. Sarah had about two months left to go before her baby was born...yet she still looked annoyingly thin. "Did we show you this yet?" she asked, displaying an ultrasound picture. "We're having a girl," she reported, eyes shining.

"And as soon as she's born, we're going to start working on her brother," Malone added.

Sarah snorted and elbowed him to the door. "You can teach our daughter to be just as capable as any male athlete," she said firmly.

"Yeah, against other women athletes."

"Nonsense. Any child of yours will be able to face off against either gender."

"And what arena would allow that?" Malone wanted to know.

After they were gone, Emmaline asked Butch, "You don't expect our babies to be athletes too, do you?"

The the two of them were sitting on the living room couch together, while the twins were sleeping nearby in a frilly bassinet. Butch was leaning over the coffee table, busily unfolding two new outfits...that looked like baby football jerseys. "Um...I plead the fifth?" he said sheepishly.

Emmaline frowned; he set the outfits down and scooted closer beside her with a grin. "I was kidding. I don't expect them to be anything they don't want to be. Whatever career they decide on is fine with me, as long as it's something they're passionate about."

He kissed her cheek before getting up and going over to the bassinet. "Really," he said, as he gently lifted Derikka and cradled her in his arms, "they're not even a week old yet. I'm only worried about the here and now."

Smiling, he nuzzled his baby daughter lovingly as he cuddled her near his chin. "What do you say, Dare-bear? Are you Daddy's Little Girl?"

Derikka squirmed in her pink blanket and let out unhappy whimper. "Not even a little bit? Okay--take it easy," he said hastily as she squirmed harder, mewling piteously. Sighing, Butch returned her to the bassinet, then surveyed its two occupants with a pert frown. "Never thought I'd feel jealous of somebody less than five days old."

Emmaline smiled. "She'll grow out of it," she said confidently. "Before you know it, they'll be at the age where they can't stand to be in the same room together."

That first week of their babies' lives was such a happy one. Gifts continued to pour in from their friends and neighbors, and they in turn mailed out pictures and started making family photo albums. One quiet morning, while Butch was off doing something with his teammates and her babies were napping, Emmaline found herself gazing at a small photo taken just a few days ago. It was a picture of the twins--a very sweet picture showing them cuddled together as they slept peacefully, like two little raven-haired angels.

It was so sweet she wanted to share it with someone, but she had already flashed countless pictures at everyone she knew. Everyone except...

Except someone that she hadn't spoken to since her wedding day. She hadn't actually tried to get in touch with him, but she had bumped into a few of his coworkers once or twice and they had reported that he was doing well at his new office, taking bigger cases than ever. No one mentioned that he was angry with her, or brought up the fact that they weren't spending time with each other anymore. So, after debating with herself for a long time, she slipped the photo and a small note into an envelope and addressed it to Steven Brooks.

Looking back later, she wasn't really sure what her reasoning behind her decision was. But she sent the letter off in the mail before she could change her mind. Later that same day--surprise, surprise--Cecilia suddenly showed up at her door. They hadn't seen each other face to face in so long, Emmaline was stunned as her best friend swooped in and hugged her.

"I would have been here sooner," Cecilia said, in a bright tone that was much closer to the way she was supposed to sound, "but I've been busy working on some shady back door business deals."

Emmaline shot her an incredulous look; Cecilia grinned in return. "Kidding. Actually, I've been offered a small position at a big insurance claim company across town. Loads more pay, plus I can finally get away from all the noses trying to stick themselves into my business."

She was a little surprised, but Emmaline gave an understanding nod. She had a feeling that it would do Cecilia good to have a change of scenery, even if she would miss working with her at the office. Smiling, she gave her a quick, congratulatory hug, then asked, "How's Heather?"

"Great," Cecilia responded. "I'd tell you all about how much she's grown, but you can see for yourself at the party tonight."

Emmaline blinked in puzzled surprise. "Party?"

Cecilia gave her a funny--if amused--look. "You know, the one that your hubby has been planning for days. Oh, wait, is that supposed to be a surprise? I mean, it's not like you could actually up and forget."

Her eyes danced as she spoke, and Emmaline felt herself stare in bewilderment. Forget? Forget what?

And then it hit her, making her cheeks warm. Of course. Today was her birthday. She had officially turned twenty-one. "Oh. Right." Laughing softly, she looked down at herself. "Guess I better change before the party, huh?" she noted, eyeing her wrinkled bathrobe and fuzzy slippers.

Cecilia laughed with her and followed her to the kitchen, where Emmaline went to the fridge to get drinks for the two of them. "You know it doesn't matter what you wear," Cecilia said teasingly. "You'd still be a hottie."

Emmaline paused, a pitcher of lemonade in her hand, and looked at her strangely. "A what?"

Breathing a sigh, Cecilia slid her arm around her shoulders. "That's our Min," she said, patting the top of her head. "Always behind the times."

* * *

To celebrate her birthday, Butch took her out to dinner that night, and he invited all her friends from work and most of his team to join them. It was a fun evening loaded with presents, great-tasting food and a wonderful atmosphere...but it was the very first time Emmaline had been away from her babies, and she was a bundle of anxious nerves even if she fully trusted the neighbor they had left to watch them. She ended up doing that mom thing that always seemed so annoying to her when she saw someone else do it and got up several times to call and check up on things. Butch playfully laughed her actions off...and discreetly slipped away from the table once or twice himself.

It was late by the time they finally got home again, and Butch laughingly set the box carrying all her gifts down and hoisted her in his arms, carrying her inside like they were newlyweds all over again. Looking amused, their babysitter bid them goodnight. Butch set his wife down, and she scurried off to the twins' room and peered into the crib.

They were both sound asleep, like she had never left them. Her heart aching with love, Emmaline leaned down to kiss them both before smoothing the blanket over them. They were much too small to play with them, but there was already a toy box in the corner of the room, almost brimming with baby treasures, and sitting on top of the nearby chest of drawers--full of diapers and bibs and the like--were more toys...including that silly squeaking sushi, a sight that never failed to make her smile.

Smiling to herself now, she left the room quietly and started getting ready for bed, her mind full of memories of the night she was given that goofy toy. The next morning she called Cecilia to thank her for coming, and to wish her luck with her new job. She was starting next week, and she promised to keep her posted on how everything went. Emmaline didn't have to return to her own job for weeks yet, and so she kicked back and relaxed at home with her wonderful little family.

The next couple of weeks were relatively uneventful. The twins rapidly grew bigger and more alert, while Emmaline grew noticeably smaller--especially around the middle. She started getting more active again, and she darted back and forth across the apartment, tending to her plants between caring for her babies. As she had predicted, Bones started to fill out a little more. She could scarcely believe how sweet and perfect her precious little son seemed to be. He had a quiet, agreeable nature, he was hardly ever fussy, and as she lifted him out of the bassinet and cradled him one afternoon, she would swear that a look of recognition passed through his green eyes. A look that seemed to say 'I know who you are, and I know you love me.'

Her eyes moistening with tears of love, Emmaline cuddled him closer and kissed his soft cheek. In the bassinet, Derikka scrunched up her nose and kicked her feet, making unhappy grunting sounds. Chuckling softly, Emmaline reached down and cradled her with her free arm. "You're going to have to learn how to share," she noted, as she sat back on the couch.

But as soon as she had both her babies tucked in her arms, Derikka stopped kicking and closed her eyes, her little head resting on her mother's shoulder as her fingers curled around a lock of her hair. Emmaline kissed the top of her downy head before settling back further into the couch cushions. "You're both just too precious for words," she murmured. "And my life wouldn't be complete without the two of you."

Or without their father, either. Butch came home later that evening after the twins had their last meal before bedtime (though they would wake up again in another few hours crying for more) and Emmaline scurried barefoot to the door to throw her arms around him. "You're looking svelte these days, Minnie Mouse," he noted, resting his hands on her waist with a grin.

She wasn't quite back to her old weight yet, but...she was quickly getting there. Grinning in return, she locked her arms around his neck and kissed him. She took a deep breath, noting absently how good he smelled. So rich and musky. So... _him_.

A familiar yet not recently felt warmth started to form in her belly; just how many months had it been since they last made love, anyway? Far too long, she decided distantly, as she started taking steps backward down the hall, pulling him with her.

"You sure you're ready for this?" Butch wondered, mouth still pressed to hers.

She smiled. "It's you," she reasoned. "I know you'll be gentle."

He didn't argue with her--not that he ever did. Emmaline fumbled to close the bedroom door with her foot before drawing him to the bed, where she lay back and scooted up the mattress. Butch cradled her head in his hands as it rested on the pillows, kissing her with that passion only he could wield. His body warmed rapidly, and she snaked her hands under his shirt, gliding her fingers up his back.

When Butch reached down and returned the favor--from the front--she paused and squirmed a little. "Just one thing," she warned, panting.

Butch gave her a blank--innocent--look. She couldn't help laughing a little as she touched his face; she never got tired of looking at him, or his eyes, always shining with life like they did. His face was always so open, so free and honest, and she lovingly traced her fingers over his cheek.

Smirking suddenly, Butch reached down and pulled something from his pocket. "I think you were going to suggest one of these things?" he said slyly, waggling a condom at her...a ribbed one.

Biting her lip, she nodded playfully. "No harm in playing it safe," she noted.

"Hey, you won't get any arguments from me. Twice is as good as a feast, right?"

She chuckled, and he coiled his arms around her and pulled her close to him as their lips meshed again, and Emmaline closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the love, the very presence of her husband, and didn't open them again for a long, long time.


End file.
